MY MAN JEEVES

BY P. G. WODEHOUSE

1919

CONTENTS

LEAVE IT TO JEEVES

JEEVES AND THE UNBIDDEN GUEST

JEEVES AND THE HARD-BOILED EGG

ABSENT TREATMENT

HELPING FREDDIE

RALLYING ROUND OLD GEORGE

DOING CLARENCE A BIT OF GOOD

THE AUNT AND THE SLUGGARD

LEAVE IT TO JEEVES

Jeeves--my man, you know--is really a most extraordinary chap. So capable. Honestly, I shouldn't know what to do without him. On broader lines he'slike those chappies who sit peering sadly over the marble battlementsat the Pennsylvania Station in the place marked "Inquiries. " You knowthe Johnnies I mean. You go up to them and say: "When's the next trainfor Melonsquashville, Tennessee?" and they reply, without stopping tothink, "Two-forty-three, track ten, change at San Francisco. " And they'reright every time. Well, Jeeves gives you just the same impression ofomniscience. 

As an instance of what I mean, I remember meeting Monty Byng in BondStreet one morning, looking the last word in a grey check suit, and Ifelt I should never be happy till I had one like it. I dug the addressof the tailors out of him, and had them working on the thing inside thehour. 

"Jeeves, " I said that evening. "I'm getting a check suit like that oneof Mr. Byng's. "

"Injudicious, sir, " he said firmly. "It will not become you. "

"What absolute rot! It's the soundest thing I've struck for years. "

"Unsuitable for you, sir. "

Well, the long and the short of it was that the confounded thing camehome, and I put it on, and when I caught sight of myself in the glass Inearly swooned. Jeeves was perfectly right. I looked a cross between amusic-hall comedian and a cheap bookie. Yet Monty had looked fine inabsolutely the same stuff. These things are just Life's mysteries, andthat's all there is to it. 

But it isn't only that Jeeves's judgment about clothes is infallible, though, of course, that's really the main thing. The man knowseverything. There was the matter of that tip on the "Lincolnshire. "I forget now how I got it, but it had the aspect of being the real, red-hot tabasco. 

"Jeeves, " I said, for I'm fond of the man, and like to do him a goodturn when I can, "if you want to make a bit of money have something onWonderchild for the 'Lincolnshire. '"

He shook his head. 

"I'd rather not, sir. "

"But it's the straight goods. I'm going to put my shirt on him. "

"I do not recommend it, sir. The animal is not intended to win. Secondplace is what the stable is after. "

Perfect piffle, I thought, of course. How the deuce could Jeeves knowanything about it? Still, you know what happened. Wonderchild led tillhe was breathing on the wire, and then Banana Fritter came along andnosed him out. I went straight home and rang for Jeeves. 

"After this, " I said, "not another step for me without your advice. From now on consider yourself the brains of the establishment. "

"Very good, sir. I shall endeavour to give satisfaction. "

And he has, by Jove! I'm a bit short on brain myself; the old beanwould appear to have been constructed more for ornament than for use, don't you know; but give me five minutes to talk the thing over withJeeves, and I'm game to advise any one about anything. And that's why, when Bruce Corcoran came to me with his troubles, my first act was toring the bell and put it up to the lad with the bulging forehead. 

"Leave it to Jeeves, " I said. 

I first got to know Corky when I came to New York. He was a pal of mycousin Gussie, who was in with a lot of people down Washington Squareway. I don't know if I ever told you about it, but the reason why Ileft England was because I was sent over by my Aunt Agatha to try tostop young Gussie marrying a girl on the vaudeville stage, and I gotthe whole thing so mixed up that I decided that it would be a soundscheme for me to stop on in America for a bit instead of going back andhaving long cosy chats about the thing with aunt. So I sent Jeeves outto find a decent apartment, and settled down for a bit of exile. I'mbound to say that New York's a topping place to be exiled in. Everybodywas awfully good to me, and there seemed to be plenty of things goingon, and I'm a wealthy bird, so everything was fine. Chappies introducedme to other chappies, and so on and so forth, and it wasn't long beforeI knew squads of the right sort, some who rolled in dollars in housesup by the Park, and others who lived with the gas turned down mostlyaround Washington Square--artists and writers and so forth. Brainycoves. 

Corky was one of the artists. A portrait-painter, he called himself, but he hadn't painted any portraits. He was sitting on the side-lineswith a blanket over his shoulders, waiting for a chance to get into thegame. You see, the catch about portrait-painting--I've looked into thething a bit--is that you can't start painting portraits till peoplecome along and ask you to, and they won't come and ask you to untilyou've painted a lot first. This makes it kind of difficult for achappie. Corky managed to get along by drawing an occasional picturefor the comic papers--he had rather a gift for funny stuff when he gota good idea--and doing bedsteads and chairs and things for theadvertisements. His principal source of income, however, was derivedfrom biting the ear of a rich uncle--one Alexander Worple, who was inthe jute business. I'm a bit foggy as to what jute is, but it'sapparently something the populace is pretty keen on, for Mr. Worple hadmade quite an indecently large stack out of it. 

Now, a great many fellows think that having a rich uncle is a prettysoft snap: but, according to Corky, such is not the case. Corky's unclewas a robust sort of cove, who looked like living for ever. He wasfifty-one, and it seemed as if he might go to par. It was not this, however, that distressed poor old Corky, for he was not bigoted and hadno objection to the man going on living. What Corky kicked at was theway the above Worple used to harry him. 

Corky's uncle, you see, didn't want him to be an artist. He didn'tthink he had any talent in that direction. He was always urging him tochuck Art and go into the jute business and start at the bottom andwork his way up. Jute had apparently become a sort of obsession withhim. He seemed to attach almost a spiritual importance to it. And whatCorky said was that, while he didn't know what they did at the bottomof the jute business, instinct told him that it was something toobeastly for words. Corky, moreover, believed in his future as anartist. Some day, he said, he was going to make a hit. Meanwhile, byusing the utmost tact and persuasiveness, he was inducing his uncle tocough up very grudgingly a small quarterly allowance. 

He wouldn't have got this if his uncle hadn't had a hobby. Mr. Worplewas peculiar in this respect. As a rule, from what I've observed, theAmerican captain of industry doesn't do anything out of business hours. When he has put the cat out and locked up the office for the night, hejust relapses into a state of coma from which he emerges only to startbeing a captain of industry again. But Mr. Worple in his spare time waswhat is known as an ornithologist. He had written a book called_American Birds_, and was writing another, to be called _MoreAmerican Birds_. When he had finished that, the presumption was thathe would begin a third, and keep on till the supply of American birdsgave out. Corky used to go to him about once every three months and lethim talk about American birds. Apparently you could do what you likedwith old Worple if you gave him his head first on his pet subject, sothese little chats used to make Corky's allowance all right for thetime being. But it was pretty rotten for the poor chap. There was thefrightful suspense, you see, and, apart from that, birds, except whenbroiled and in the society of a cold bottle, bored him stiff. 

To complete the character-study of Mr. Worple, he was a man ofextremely uncertain temper, and his general tendency was to think thatCorky was a poor chump and that whatever step he took in any directionon his own account, was just another proof of his innate idiocy. Ishould imagine Jeeves feels very much the same about me. 

So when Corky trickled into my apartment one afternoon, shooing a girlin front of him, and said, "Bertie, I want you to meet my fiancée, MissSinger, " the aspect of the matter which hit me first was precisely theone which he had come to consult me about. The very first words I spokewere, "Corky, how about your uncle?"

The poor chap gave one of those mirthless laughs. He was lookinganxious and worried, like a man who has done the murder all right butcan't think what the deuce to do with the body. 

"We're so scared, Mr. Wooster, " said the girl. "We were hoping that youmight suggest a way of breaking it to him. "

Muriel Singer was one of those very quiet, appealing girls who have away of looking at you with their big eyes as if they thought you werethe greatest thing on earth and wondered that you hadn't got on to ityet yourself. She sat there in a sort of shrinking way, looking at meas if she were saying to herself, "Oh, I do hope this great strong manisn't going to hurt me. " She gave a fellow a protective kind offeeling, made him want to stroke her hand and say, "There, there, little one!" or words to that effect. She made me feel that there wasnothing I wouldn't do for her. She was rather like one of thoseinnocent-tasting American drinks which creep imperceptibly into yoursystem so that, before you know what you're doing, you're starting outto reform the world by force if necessary and pausing on your way totell the large man in the corner that, if he looks at you like that, you will knock his head off. What I mean is, she made me feel alert anddashing, like a jolly old knight-errant or something of that kind. Ifelt that I was with her in this thing to the limit. 

"I don't see why your uncle shouldn't be most awfully bucked, " I saidto Corky. "He will think Miss Singer the ideal wife for you. "

Corky declined to cheer up. 

"You don't know him. Even if he did like Muriel he wouldn't admit it. That's the sort of pig-headed guy he is. It would be a matter ofprinciple with him to kick. All he would consider would be that I hadgone and taken an important step without asking his advice, and hewould raise Cain automatically. He's always done it. "

I strained the old bean to meet this emergency. 

"You want to work it so that he makes Miss Singer's acquaintancewithout knowing that you know her. Then you come along----"

"But how can I work it that way?"

I saw his point. That was the catch. 

"There's only one thing to do, " I said. 

"What's that?"

"Leave it to Jeeves. "

And I rang the bell. 

"Sir?" said Jeeves, kind of manifesting himself. One of the rummythings about Jeeves is that, unless you watch like a hawk, you veryseldom see him come into a room. He's like one of those weird chappiesin India who dissolve themselves into thin air and nip through space ina sort of disembodied way and assemble the parts again just where theywant them. I've got a cousin who's what they call a Theosophist, and hesays he's often nearly worked the thing himself, but couldn't quitebring it off, probably owing to having fed in his boyhood on the fleshof animals slain in anger and pie. 

The moment I saw the man standing there, registering respectfulattention, a weight seemed to roll off my mind. I felt like a lostchild who spots his father in the offing. There was something about himthat gave me confidence. 

Jeeves is a tallish man, with one of those dark, shrewd faces. His eyegleams with the light of pure intelligence. 

"Jeeves, we want your advice. "

"Very good, sir. "

I boiled down Corky's painful case into a few well-chosen words. 

"So you see what it amount to, Jeeves. We want you to suggest some wayby which Mr. Worple can make Miss Singer's acquaintance without gettingon to the fact that Mr. Corcoran already knows her. Understand?"

"Perfectly, sir. "

"Well, try to think of something. "

"I have thought of something already, sir. "

"You have!"

"The scheme I would suggest cannot fail of success, but it has what mayseem to you a drawback, sir, in that it requires a certain financialoutlay. "

"He means, " I translated to Corky, "that he has got a pippin of anidea, but it's going to cost a bit. "

Naturally the poor chap's face dropped, for this seemed to dish thewhole thing. But I was still under the influence of the girl's meltinggaze, and I saw that this was where I started in as a knight-errant. 

"You can count on me for all that sort of thing, Corky, " I said. "Onlytoo glad. Carry on, Jeeves. "

"I would suggest, sir, that Mr. Corcoran take advantage of Mr. Worple'sattachment to ornithology. "

"How on earth did you know that he was fond of birds?"

"It is the way these New York apartments are constructed, sir. Quiteunlike our London houses. The partitions between the rooms are of theflimsiest nature. With no wish to overhear, I have sometimes heard Mr. Corcoran expressing himself with a generous strength on the subject Ihave mentioned. "

"Oh! Well?"

"Why should not the young lady write a small volume, to be entitled--letus say--_The Children's Book of American Birds_, and dedicate itto Mr. Worple! A limited edition could be published at your expense, sir, and a great deal of the book would, of course, be given over toeulogistic remarks concerning Mr. Worple's own larger treatise on thesame subject. I should recommend the dispatching of a presentation copyto Mr. Worple, immediately on publication, accompanied by a letter inwhich the young lady asks to be allowed to make the acquaintance of oneto whom she owes so much. This would, I fancy, produce the desiredresult, but as I say, the expense involved would be considerable. "

I felt like the proprietor of a performing dog on the vaudeville stagewhen the tyke has just pulled off his trick without a hitch. I hadbetted on Jeeves all along, and I had known that he wouldn't let medown. It beats me sometimes why a man with his genius is satisfied tohang around pressing my clothes and whatnot. If I had half Jeeves'sbrain, I should have a stab, at being Prime Minister or something. 

"Jeeves, " I said, "that is absolutely ripping! One of your very bestefforts. "

"Thank you, sir. "

The girl made an objection. 

"But I'm sure I couldn't write a book about anything. I can't evenwrite good letters. "

"Muriel's talents, " said Corky, with a little cough "lie more in thedirection of the drama, Bertie. I didn't mention it before, but one ofour reasons for being a trifle nervous as to how Uncle Alexander willreceive the news is that Muriel is in the chorus of that show _Chooseyour Exit_ at the Manhattan. It's absurdly unreasonable, but we bothfeel that that fact might increase Uncle Alexander's natural tendencyto kick like a steer. "

I saw what he meant. Goodness knows there was fuss enough in our familywhen I tried to marry into musical comedy a few years ago. And therecollection of my Aunt Agatha's attitude in the matter of Gussie andthe vaudeville girl was still fresh in my mind. I don't know why itis--one of these psychology sharps could explain it, I suppose--butuncles and aunts, as a class, are always dead against the drama, legitimate or otherwise. They don't seem able to stick it at any price. 

But Jeeves had a solution, of course. 

"I fancy it would be a simple matter, sir, to find some impecuniousauthor who would be glad to do the actual composition of the volume fora small fee. It is only necessary that the young lady's name shouldappear on the title page. "

"That's true, " said Corky. "Sam Patterson would do it for a hundreddollars. He writes a novelette, three short stories, and ten thousandwords of a serial for one of the all-fiction magazines under differentnames every month. A little thing like this would be nothing to him. I'll get after him right away. "

"Fine!"

"Will that be all, sir?" said Jeeves. "Very good, sir. Thank you, sir. "

I always used to think that publishers had to be devilish intelligentfellows, loaded down with the grey matter; but I've got their numbernow. All a publisher has to do is to write cheques at intervals, whilea lot of deserving and industrious chappies rally round and do the realwork. I know, because I've been one myself. I simply sat tight in theold apartment with a fountain-pen, and in due season a topping, shinybook came along. 

I happened to be down at Corky's place when the first copies of _TheChildren's Book of American Birds_ bobbed up. Muriel Singer wasthere, and we were talking of things in general when there was a bangat the door and the parcel was delivered. 

It was certainly some book. It had a red cover with a fowl of somespecies on it, and underneath the girl's name in gold letters. I openeda copy at random. 

"Often of a spring morning, " it said at the top of page twenty-one, "asyou wander through the fields, you will hear the sweet-toned, carelessly flowing warble of the purple finch linnet. When you areolder you must read all about him in Mr. Alexander Worple's wonderfulbook--_American Birds_. "

You see. A boost for the uncle right away. And only a few pages laterthere he was in the limelight again in connection with the yellow-billedcuckoo. It was great stuff. The more I read, the more I admired the chapwho had written it and Jeeves's genius in putting us on to the wheeze. I didn't see how the uncle could fail to drop. You can't call a chap theworld's greatest authority on the yellow-billed cuckoo without rousing acertain disposition towards chumminess in him. 

"It's a cert!" I said. 

"An absolute cinch!" said Corky. 

And a day or two later he meandered up the Avenue to my apartment totell me that all was well. The uncle had written Muriel a letter sodripping with the milk of human kindness that if he hadn't known Mr. Worple's handwriting Corky would have refused to believe him the authorof it. Any time it suited Miss Singer to call, said the uncle, he wouldbe delighted to make her acquaintance. 

Shortly after this I had to go out of town. Divers sound sportsmen hadinvited me to pay visits to their country places, and it wasn't forseveral months that I settled down in the city again. I had beenwondering a lot, of course, about Corky, whether it all turned outright, and so forth, and my first evening in New York, happening to popinto a quiet sort of little restaurant which I go to when I don't feelinclined for the bright lights, I found Muriel Singer there, sitting byherself at a table near the door. Corky, I took it, was outtelephoning. I went up and passed the time of day. 

"Well, well, well, what?" I said. 

"Why, Mr. Wooster! How do you do?"

"Corky around?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're waiting for Corky, aren't you?"

"Oh, I didn't understand. No, I'm not waiting for him. "

It seemed to roe that there was a sort of something in her voice, akind of thingummy, you know. 

"I say, you haven't had a row with Corky, have you?"

"A row?"

"A spat, don't you know--little misunderstanding--faults on bothsides--er--and all that sort of thing. "

"Why, whatever makes you think that?"

"Oh, well, as it were, what? What I mean is--I thought you usuallydined with him before you went to the theatre. "

"I've left the stage now. "

Suddenly the whole thing dawned on me. I had forgotten what a long timeI had been away. 

"Why, of course, I see now! You're married!"

"Yes. "

"How perfectly topping! I wish you all kinds of happiness. "

"Thank you, so much. Oh Alexander, " she said, looking past me, "this isa friend of mine--Mr. Wooster. "

I spun round. A chappie with a lot of stiff grey hair and a red sort ofhealthy face was standing there. Rather a formidable Johnnie, helooked, though quite peaceful at the moment. 

"I want you to meet my husband, Mr. Wooster. Mr. Wooster is a friend ofBruce's, Alexander. "

The old boy grasped my hand warmly, and that was all that kept me fromhitting the floor in a heap. The place was rocking. Absolutely. 

"So you know my nephew, Mr. Wooster, " I heard him say. "I wish youwould try to knock a little sense into him and make him quit thisplaying at painting. But I have an idea that he is steadying down. Inoticed it first that night he came to dinner with us, my dear, to beintroduced to you. He seemed altogether quieter and more serious. Something seemed to have sobered him. Perhaps you will give us thepleasure of your company at dinner to-night, Mr. Wooster? Or have youdined?"

I said I had. What I needed then was air, not dinner. I felt that Iwanted to get into the open and think this thing out. 

When I reached my apartment I heard Jeeves moving about in his lair. Icalled him. 

"Jeeves, " I said, "now is the time for all good men to come to the aidof the party. A stiff b. -and-s. First of all, and then I've a bit ofnews for you. "

He came back with a tray and a long glass. 

"Better have one yourself, Jeeves. You'll need it. "

"Later on, perhaps, thank you, sir. "

"All right. Please yourself. But you're going to get a shock. Youremember my friend, Mr. Corcoran?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And the girl who was to slide gracefully into his uncle's esteem bywriting the book on birds?"

"Perfectly, sir. "

"Well, she's slid. She's married the uncle. "

He took it without blinking. You can't rattle Jeeves. 

"That was always a development to be feared, sir. "

"You don't mean to tell me that you were expecting it?"

"It crossed my mind as a possibility. "

"Did it, by Jove! Well, I think, you might have warned us!"

"I hardly liked to take the liberty, sir. "

Of course, as I saw after I had had a bite to eat and was in a calmerframe of mind, what had happened wasn't my fault, if you come down toit. I couldn't be expected to foresee that the scheme, in itself acracker-jack, would skid into the ditch as it had done; but all thesame I'm bound to admit that I didn't relish the idea of meeting Corkyagain until time, the great healer, had been able to get in a bit ofsoothing work. I cut Washington Square out absolutely for the next fewmonths. I gave it the complete miss-in-baulk. And then, just when I wasbeginning to think I might safely pop down in that direction and gatherup the dropped threads, so to speak, time, instead of working thehealing wheeze, went and pulled the most awful bone and put the lid onit. Opening the paper one morning, I read that Mrs. Alexander Worplehad presented her husband with a son and heir. 

I was so darned sorry for poor old Corky that I hadn't the heart totouch my breakfast. I told Jeeves to drink it himself. I was bowledover. Absolutely. It was the limit. 

I hardly knew what to do. I wanted, of course, to rush down toWashington Square and grip the poor blighter silently by the hand; andthen, thinking it over, I hadn't the nerve. Absent treatment seemed thetouch. I gave it him in waves. 

But after a month or so I began to hesitate again. It struck me that itwas playing it a bit low-down on the poor chap, avoiding him like thisjust when he probably wanted his pals to surge round him most. Ipictured him sitting in his lonely studio with no company but hisbitter thoughts, and the pathos of it got me to such an extent that Ibounded straight into a taxi and told the driver to go all out for thestudio. 

I rushed in, and there was Corky, hunched up at the easel, paintingaway, while on the model throne sat a severe-looking female of middleage, holding a baby. 

A fellow has to be ready for that sort of thing. 

"Oh, ah!" I said, and started to back out. 

Corky looked over his shoulder. 

"Halloa, Bertie. Don't go. We're just finishing for the day. That willbe all this afternoon, " he said to the nurse, who got up with the babyand decanted it into a perambulator which was standing in the fairway. 

"At the same hour to-morrow, Mr. Corcoran?"

"Yes, please. "

"Good afternoon. "

"Good afternoon. "

Corky stood there, looking at the door, and then he turned to me andbegan to get it off his chest. Fortunately, he seemed to take it forgranted that I knew all about what had happened, so it wasn't asawkward as it might have been. 

"It's my uncle's idea, " he said. "Muriel doesn't know about it yet. Theportrait's to be a surprise for her on her birthday. The nurse takesthe kid out ostensibly to get a breather, and they beat it down here. If you want an instance of the irony of fate, Bertie, get acquaintedwith this. Here's the first commission I have ever had to paint aportrait, and the sitter is that human poached egg that has butted inand bounced me out of my inheritance. Can you beat it! I call itrubbing the thing in to expect me to spend my afternoons gazing intothe ugly face of a little brat who to all intents and purposes has hitme behind the ear with a blackjack and swiped all I possess. I can'trefuse to paint the portrait because if I did my uncle would stop myallowance; yet every time I look up and catch that kid's vacant eye, Isuffer agonies. I tell you, Bertie, sometimes when he gives me apatronizing glance and then turns away and is sick, as if it revoltedhim to look at me, I come within an ace of occupying the entire frontpage of the evening papers as the latest murder sensation. There aremoments when I can almost see the headlines: 'Promising Young ArtistBeans Baby With Axe. '"

I patted his shoulder silently. My sympathy for the poor old scout wastoo deep for words. 

I kept away from the studio for some time after that, because it didn'tseem right to me to intrude on the poor chappie's sorrow. Besides, I'mbound to say that nurse intimidated me. She reminded me so infernallyof Aunt Agatha. She was the same gimlet-eyed type. 

But one afternoon Corky called me on the 'phone. 

"Bertie. "

"Halloa?"

"Are you doing anything this afternoon?"

"Nothing special. "

"You couldn't come down here, could you?"

"What's the trouble? Anything up?"

"I've finished the portrait. "

"Good boy! Stout work!"

"Yes. " His voice sounded rather doubtful. "The fact is, Bertie, itdoesn't look quite right to me. There's something about it--My uncle'scoming in half an hour to inspect it, and--I don't know why it is, butI kind of feel I'd like your moral support!"

I began to see that I was letting myself in for something. Thesympathetic co-operation of Jeeves seemed to me to be indicated. 

"You think he'll cut up rough?"

"He may. "

I threw my mind back to the red-faced chappie I had met at therestaurant, and tried to picture him cutting up rough. It was only tooeasy. I spoke to Corky firmly on the telephone. 

"I'll come, " I said. 

"Good!"

"But only if I may bring Jeeves!"

"Why Jeeves? What's Jeeves got to do with it? Who wants Jeeves? Jeevesis the fool who suggested the scheme that has led----"

"Listen, Corky, old top! If you think I am going to face that uncle ofyours without Jeeves's support, you're mistaken. I'd sooner go into aden of wild beasts and bite a lion on the back of the neck. "

"Oh, all right, " said Corky. Not cordially, but he said it; so I rangfor Jeeves, and explained the situation. 

"Very good, sir, " said Jeeves. 

That's the sort of chap he is. You can't rattle him. 

We found Corky near the door, looking at the picture, with one hand upin a defensive sort of way, as if he thought it might swing on him. 

"Stand right where you are, Bertie, " he said, without moving. "Now, tell me honestly, how does it strike you?"

The light from the big window fell right on the picture. I took a goodlook at it. Then I shifted a bit nearer and took another look. Then Iwent back to where I had been at first, because it hadn't seemed quiteso bad from there. 

"Well?" said Corky, anxiously. 

I hesitated a bit. 

"Of course, old man, I only saw the kid once, and then only for amoment, but--but it _was_ an ugly sort of kid, wasn't it, if Iremember rightly?"

"As ugly as that?"

I looked again, and honesty compelled me to be frank. 

"I don't see how it could have been, old chap. "

Poor old Corky ran his fingers through his hair in a temperamental sortof way. He groaned. 

"You're right quite, Bertie. Something's gone wrong with the darnedthing. My private impression is that, without knowing it, I've workedthat stunt that Sargent and those fellows pull--painting the soul ofthe sitter. I've got through the mere outward appearance, and have putthe child's soul on canvas. "

"But could a child of that age have a soul like that? I don't see howhe could have managed it in the time. What do you think, Jeeves?"

"I doubt it, sir. "

"It--it sorts of leers at you, doesn't it?"

"You've noticed that, too?" said Corky. 

"I don't see how one could help noticing. "

"All I tried to do was to give the little brute a cheerful expression. But, as it worked out, he looks positively dissipated. "

"Just what I was going to suggest, old man. He looks as if he were inthe middle of a colossal spree, and enjoying every minute of it. Don'tyou think so, Jeeves?"

"He has a decidedly inebriated air, sir. "

Corky was starting to say something when the door opened, and the unclecame in. 

For about three seconds all was joy, jollity, and goodwill. The old boyshook hands with me, slapped Corky on the back, said that he didn'tthink he had ever seen such a fine day, and whacked his leg with hisstick. Jeeves had projected himself into the background, and he didn'tnotice him. 

"Well, Bruce, my boy; so the portrait is really finished, is it--reallyfinished? Well, bring it out. Let's have a look at it. This will be awonderful surprise for your aunt. Where is it? Let's----"

And then he got it--suddenly, when he wasn't set for the punch; and herocked back on his heels. 

"Oosh!" he exclaimed. And for perhaps a minute there was one of thescaliest silences I've ever run up against. 

"Is this a practical joke?" he said at last, in a way that set aboutsixteen draughts cutting through the room at once. 

I thought it was up to me to rally round old Corky. 

"You want to stand a bit farther away from it, " I said. 

"You're perfectly right!" he snorted. "I do! I want to stand so faraway from it that I can't see the thing with a telescope!" He turned onCorky like an untamed tiger of the jungle who has just located a chunkof meat. "And this--this--is what you have been wasting your time andmy money for all these years! A painter! I wouldn't let you paint ahouse of mine! I gave you this commission, thinking that you were acompetent worker, and this--this--this extract from a comic colouredsupplement is the result!" He swung towards the door, lashing his tailand growling to himself. "This ends it! If you wish to continue thisfoolery of pretending to be an artist because you want an excuse foridleness, please yourself. But let me tell you this. Unless you reportat my office on Monday morning, prepared to abandon all this idiocy andstart in at the bottom of the business to work your way up, as youshould have done half a dozen years ago, not another cent--not anothercent--not another--Boosh!"

Then the door closed, and he was no longer with us. And I crawled outof the bombproof shelter. 

"Corky, old top!" I whispered faintly. 

Corky was standing staring at the picture. His face was set. There wasa hunted look in his eye. 

"Well, that finishes it!" he muttered brokenly. 

"What are you going to do?"

"Do? What can I do? I can't stick on here if he cuts off supplies. Youheard what he said. I shall have to go to the office on Monday. "

I couldn't think of a thing to say. I knew exactly how he felt aboutthe office. I don't know when I've been so infernally uncomfortable. Itwas like hanging round trying to make conversation to a pal who's justbeen sentenced to twenty years in quod. 

And then a soothing voice broke the silence. 

"If I might make a suggestion, sir!"

It was Jeeves. He had slid from the shadows and was gazing gravely atthe picture. Upon my word, I can't give you a better idea of theshattering effect of Corky's uncle Alexander when in action than bysaying that he had absolutely made me forget for the moment that Jeeveswas there. 

"I wonder if I have ever happened to mention to you, sir, a Mr. DigbyThistleton, with whom I was once in service? Perhaps you have met him?He was a financier. He is now Lord Bridgnorth. It was a favouritesaying of his that there is always a way. The first time I heard himuse the expression was after the failure of a patent depilatory whichhe promoted. "

"Jeeves, " I said, "what on earth are you talking about?"

"I mentioned Mr. Thistleton, sir, because his was in some respectsa parallel case to the present one. His depilatory failed, but hedid not despair. He put it on the market again under the name ofHair-o, guaranteed to produce a full crop of hair in a few months. It was advertised, if you remember, sir, by a humorous picture of abilliard-ball, before and after taking, and made such a substantialfortune that Mr. Thistleton was soon afterwards elevated to the peeragefor services to his Party. It seems to me that, if Mr. Corcoran looksinto the matter, he will find, like Mr. Thistleton, that there is alwaysa way. Mr. Worple himself suggested the solution of the difficulty. Inthe heat of the moment he compared the portrait to an extract from acoloured comic supplement. I consider the suggestion a very valuableone, sir. Mr. Corcoran's portrait may not have pleased Mr. Worple as alikeness of his only child, but I have no doubt that editors would gladlyconsider it as a foundation for a series of humorous drawings. If Mr. Corcoran will allow me to make the suggestion, his talent has always beenfor the humorous. There is something about this picture--something boldand vigorous, which arrests the attention. I feel sure it would be highlypopular. "

Corky was glaring at the picture, and making a sort of dry, suckingnoise with his mouth. He seemed completely overwrought. 

And then suddenly he began to laugh in a wild way. 

"Corky, old man!" I said, massaging him tenderly. I feared the poorblighter was hysterical. 

He began to stagger about all over the floor. 

"He's right! The man's absolutely right! Jeeves, you're a life-saver!You've hit on the greatest idea of the age! Report at the office onMonday! Start at the bottom of the business! I'll buy the business if Ifeel like it. I know the man who runs the comic section of the_Sunday Star_. He'll eat this thing. He was telling me only theother day how hard it was to get a good new series. He'll give meanything I ask for a real winner like this. I've got a gold-mine. Where's my hat? I've got an income for life! Where's that confoundedhat? Lend me a fiver, Bertie. I want to take a taxi down to Park Row!"

Jeeves smiled paternally. Or, rather, he had a kind of paternalmuscular spasm about the mouth, which is the nearest he ever gets tosmiling. 

"If I might make the suggestion, Mr. Corcoran--for a title of theseries which you have in mind--'The Adventures of Baby Blobbs. '"

Corky and I looked at the picture, then at each other in an awed way. Jeeves was right. There could be no other title. 

"Jeeves, " I said. It was a few weeks later, and I had just finishedlooking at the comic section of the _Sunday Star_. "I'm anoptimist. I always have been. The older I get, the more I agree withShakespeare and those poet Johnnies about it always being darkestbefore the dawn and there's a silver lining and what you lose on theswings you make up on the roundabouts. Look at Mr. Corcoran, forinstance. There was a fellow, one would have said, clear up to theeyebrows in the soup. To all appearances he had got it right in theneck. Yet look at him now. Have you seen these pictures?"

"I took the liberty of glancing at them before bringing them to you, sir. Extremely diverting. "

"They have made a big hit, you know. "

"I anticipated it, sir. "

I leaned back against the pillows. 

"You know, Jeeves, you're a genius. You ought to be drawing acommission on these things. "

"I have nothing to complain of in that respect, sir. Mr. Corcoran hasbeen most generous. I am putting out the brown suit, sir. "

"No, I think I'll wear the blue with the faint red stripe. "

"Not the blue with the faint red stripe, sir. "

"But I rather fancy myself in it. "

"Not the blue with the faint red stripe, sir. "

"Oh, all right, have it your own way. "

"Very good, sir. Thank you, sir. "

Of course, I know it's as bad as being henpecked; but then Jeeves isalways right. You've got to consider that, you know. What?

JEEVES AND THE UNBIDDEN GUEST

I'm not absolutely certain of my facts, but I rather fancy it'sShakespeare--or, if not, it's some equally brainy lad--who says thatit's always just when a chappie is feeling particularly top-hole, andmore than usually braced with things in general that Fate sneaks upbehind him with a bit of lead piping. There's no doubt the man's right. It's absolutely that way with me. Take, for instance, the fairly rummymatter of Lady Malvern and her son Wilmot. A moment before they turnedup, I was just thinking how thoroughly all right everything was. 

It was one of those topping mornings, and I had just climbed out fromunder the cold shower, feeling like a two-year-old. As a matter offact, I was especially bucked just then because the day before I hadasserted myself with Jeeves--absolutely asserted myself, don't youknow. You see, the way things had been going on I was rapidly becominga dashed serf. The man had jolly well oppressed me. I didn't so muchmind when he made me give up one of my new suits, because, Jeeves'sjudgment about suits is sound. But I as near as a toucher rebelled whenhe wouldn't let me wear a pair of cloth-topped boots which I loved likea couple of brothers. And when he tried to tread on me like a worm inthe matter of a hat, I jolly well put my foot down and showed him whowas who. It's a long story, and I haven't time to tell you now, butthe point is that he wanted me to wear the Longacre--as worn by JohnDrew--when I had set my heart on the Country Gentleman--as worn byanother famous actor chappie--and the end of the matter was that, aftera rather painful scene, I bought the Country Gentleman. So that's howthings stood on this particular morning, and I was feeling kind ofmanly and independent. 

Well, I was in the bathroom, wondering what there was going to be forbreakfast while I massaged the good old spine with a rough towel andsang slightly, when there was a tap at the door. I stopped singing andopened the door an inch. 

"What ho without there!"

"Lady Malvern wishes to see you, sir, " said Jeeves. 

"Eh?"

"Lady Malvern, sir. She is waiting in the sitting-room. "

"Pull yourself together, Jeeves, my man, " I said, rather severely, forI bar practical jokes before breakfast. "You know perfectly wellthere's no one waiting for me in the sitting-room. How could there bewhen it's barely ten o'clock yet?"

"I gathered from her ladyship, sir, that she had landed from an oceanliner at an early hour this morning. "

This made the thing a bit more plausible. I remembered that when I hadarrived in America about a year before, the proceedings had begun atsome ghastly hour like six, and that I had been shot out on to aforeign shore considerably before eight. 

"Who the deuce is Lady Malvern, Jeeves?"

"Her ladyship did not confide in me, sir. "

"Is she alone?"

"Her ladyship is accompanied by a Lord Pershore, sir. I fancy that hislordship would be her ladyship's son. "

"Oh, well, put out rich raiment of sorts, and I'll be dressing. "

"Our heather-mixture lounge is in readiness, sir. "

"Then lead me to it. "

While I was dressing I kept trying to think who on earth Lady Malverncould be. It wasn't till I had climbed through the top of my shirt andwas reaching out for the studs that I remembered. 

"I've placed her, Jeeves. She's a pal of my Aunt Agatha. "

"Indeed, sir?"

"Yes. I met her at lunch one Sunday before I leftLondon. A very vicious specimen. Writes books. She wrote a book onsocial conditions in India when she came back from the Durbar. "

"Yes, sir? Pardon me, sir, but not that tie!"

"Eh?"

"Not that tie with the heather-mixture lounge, sir!"

It was a shock to me. I thought I had quelled the fellow. It was rathera solemn moment. What I mean is, if I weakened now, all my good workthe night before would be thrown away. I braced myself. 

"What's wrong with this tie? I've seen you give it a nasty look before. Speak out like a man! What's the matter with it?"

"Too ornate, sir. "

"Nonsense! A cheerful pink. Nothing more. "

"Unsuitable, sir. "

"Jeeves, this is the tie I wear!"

"Very good, sir. "

Dashed unpleasant. I could see that the man was wounded. But I wasfirm. I tied the tie, got into the coat and waistcoat, and went intothe sitting-room. 

"Halloa! Halloa! Halloa!" I said. "What?"

"Ah! How do you do, Mr. Wooster? You have never met my son, Wilmot, Ithink? Motty, darling, this is Mr. Wooster. "

Lady Malvern was a hearty, happy, healthy, overpowering sort of dashedfemale, not so very tall but making up for it by measuring about six feetfrom the O. P. To the Prompt Side. She fitted into my biggest arm-chair asif it had been built round her by someone who knew they were wearingarm-chairs tight about the hips that season. She had bright, bulgingeyes and a lot of yellow hair, and when she spoke she showed aboutfifty-seven front teeth. She was one of those women who kind of numba fellow's faculties. She made me feel as if I were ten years old andhad been brought into the drawing-room in my Sunday clothes to sayhow-d'you-do. Altogether by no means the sort of thing a chappie wouldwish to find in his sitting-room before breakfast. 

Motty, the son, was about twenty-three, tall and thin and meek-looking. He had the same yellow hair as his mother, but he wore it plastereddown and parted in the middle. His eyes bulged, too, but they weren'tbright. They were a dull grey with pink rims. His chin gave up thestruggle about half-way down, and he didn't appear to have anyeyelashes. A mild, furtive, sheepish sort of blighter, in short. 

"Awfully glad to see you, " I said. "So you've popped over, eh? Making along stay in America?"

"About a month. Your aunt gave me your address and told me to be sureand call on you. "

I was glad to hear this, as it showed that Aunt Agatha was beginning tocome round a bit. There had been some unpleasantness a year before, when she had sent me over to New York to disentangle my Cousin Gussiefrom the clutches of a girl on the music-hall stage. When I tell youthat by the time I had finished my operations, Gussie had not onlymarried the girl but had gone on the stage himself, and was doing well, you'll understand that Aunt Agatha was upset to no small extent. Isimply hadn't dared go back and face her, and it was a relief to findthat time had healed the wound and all that sort of thing enough tomake her tell her pals to look me up. What I mean is, much as I likedAmerica, I didn't want to have England barred to me for the rest of mynatural; and, believe me, England is a jolly sight too small for anyoneto live in with Aunt Agatha, if she's really on the warpath. So Ibraced on hearing these kind words and smiled genially on theassemblage. 

"Your aunt said that you would do anything that was in your power to beof assistance to us. "

"Rather? Oh, rather! Absolutely!"

"Thank you so much. I want you to put dear Motty up for a littlewhile. "

I didn't get this for a moment. 

"Put him up? For my clubs?"

"No, no! Darling Motty is essentially a home bird. Aren't you, Mottydarling?"

Motty, who was sucking the knob of his stick, uncorked himself. 

"Yes, mother, " he said, and corked himself up again. 

"I should not like him to belong to clubs. I mean put him up here. Havehim to live with you while I am away. "

These frightful words trickled out of her like honey. The woman simplydidn't seem to understand the ghastly nature of her proposal. I gaveMotty the swift east-to-west. He was sitting with his mouth nuzzlingthe stick, blinking at the wall. The thought of having this planted onme for an indefinite period appalled me. Absolutely appalled me, don'tyou know. I was just starting to say that the shot wasn't on the boardat any price, and that the first sign Motty gave of trying to nestleinto my little home I would yell for the police, when she went on, rolling placidly over me, as it were. 

There was something about this woman that sapped a chappie's will-power. 

"I am leaving New York by the midday train, as I have to pay a visit toSing-Sing prison. I am extremely interested in prison conditions inAmerica. After that I work my way gradually across to the coast, visiting the points of interest on the journey. You see, Mr. Wooster, Iam in America principally on business. No doubt you read my book, _India and the Indians_? My publishers are anxious for me to writea companion volume on the United States. I shall not be able to spendmore than a month in the country, as I have to get back for the season, but a month should be ample. I was less than a month in India, and mydear friend Sir Roger Cremorne wrote his _America from Within_after a stay of only two weeks. I should love to take dear Motty withme, but the poor boy gets so sick when he travels by train. I shallhave to pick him up on my return. "

From where I sat I could see Jeeves in the dining-room, laying thebreakfast-table. I wished I could have had a minute with him alone. Ifelt certain that he would have been able to think of some way ofputting a stop to this woman. 

"It will be such a relief to know that Motty is safe with you, Mr. Wooster. I know what the temptations of a great city are. Hitherto dearMotty has been sheltered from them. He has lived quietly with me in thecountry. I know that you will look after him carefully, Mr. Wooster. Hewill give very little trouble. " She talked about the poor blighter asif he wasn't there. Not that Motty seemed to mind. He had stoppedchewing his walking-stick and was sitting there with his mouth open. "He is a vegetarian and a teetotaller and is devoted to reading. Givehim a nice book and he will be quite contented. " She got up. "Thank youso much, Mr. Wooster! I don't know what I should have done without yourhelp. Come, Motty! We have just time to see a few of the sights beforemy train goes. But I shall have to rely on you for most of myinformation about New York, darling. Be sure to keep your eyes open andtake notes of your impressions! It will be such a help. Good-bye, Mr. Wooster. I will send Motty back early in the afternoon. "

They went out, and I howled for Jeeves. 

"Jeeves! What about it?"

"Sir?"

"What's to be done? You heard it all, didn't you? You were in thedining-room most of the time. That pill is coming to stay here. "

"Pill, sir?"

"The excrescence. "

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

I looked at Jeeves sharply. This sort of thing wasn't like him. It wasas if he were deliberately trying to give me the pip. Then Iunderstood. The man was really upset about that tie. He was trying toget his own back. 

"Lord Pershore will be staying here from to-night, Jeeves, " I saidcoldly. 

"Very good, sir. Breakfast is ready, sir. "

I could have sobbed into the bacon and eggs. That there wasn't anysympathy to be got out of Jeeves was what put the lid on it. For amoment I almost weakened and told him to destroy the hat and tie if hedidn't like them, but I pulled myself together again. I was dashed if Iwas going to let Jeeves treat me like a bally one-man chain-gang!

But, what with brooding on Jeeves and brooding on Motty, I was in apretty reduced sort of state. The more I examined the situation, themore blighted it became. There was nothing I could do. If I slung Mottyout, he would report to his mother, and she would pass it on to AuntAgatha, and I didn't like to think what would happen then. Sooner orlater, I should be wanting to go back to England, and I didn't want toget there and find Aunt Agatha waiting on the quay for me with astuffed eelskin. There was absolutely nothing for it but to put thefellow up and make the best of it. 

About midday Motty's luggage arrived, and soon afterward a large parcelof what I took to be nice books. I brightened up a little when I sawit. It was one of those massive parcels and looked as if it had enoughin it to keep the chappie busy for a year. I felt a trifle morecheerful, and I got my Country Gentleman hat and stuck it on my head, and gave the pink tie a twist, and reeled out to take a bite of lunchwith one or two of the lads at a neighbouring hostelry; and what withexcellent browsing and sluicing and cheery conversation and what-not, the afternoon passed quite happily. By dinner-time I had almostforgotten blighted Motty's existence. 

I dined at the club and looked in at a show afterward, and it wasn'ttill fairly late that I got back to the flat. There were no signs ofMotty, and I took it that he had gone to bed. 

It seemed rummy to me, though, that the parcel of nice books was stillthere with the string and paper on it. It looked as if Motty, afterseeing mother off at the station, had decided to call it a day. 

Jeeves came in with the nightly whisky-and-soda. I could tell by thechappie's manner that he was still upset. 

"Lord Pershore gone to bed, Jeeves?" I asked, with reserved hauteur andwhat-not. 

"No, sir. His lordship has not yet returned. "

"Not returned? What do you mean?"

"His lordship came in shortly after six-thirty, and, having dressed, went out again. "

At this moment there was a noise outside the front door, a sort ofscrabbling noise, as if somebody were trying to paw his way through thewoodwork. Then a sort of thud. 

"Better go and see what that is, Jeeves. "

"Very good, sir. "

He went out and came back again. 

"If you would not mind stepping this way, sir, I think we might be ableto carry him in. "

"Carry him in?"

"His lordship is lying on the mat, sir. "

I went to the front door. The man was right. There was Motty huddled upoutside on the floor. He was moaning a bit. 

"He's had some sort of dashed fit, " I said. I took another look. "Jeeves! Someone's been feeding him meat!"

"Sir?"

"He's a vegetarian, you know. He must have been digging into a steak orsomething. Call up a doctor!"

"I hardly think it will be necessary, sir. If you would take hislordship's legs, while I----"

"Great Scot, Jeeves! You don't think--he can't be----"

"I am inclined to think so, sir. "

And, by Jove, he was right! Once on the right track, you couldn'tmistake it. Motty was under the surface. 

It was the deuce of a shock. 

"You never can tell, Jeeves!"

"Very seldom, sir. "

"Remove the eye of authority and where are you?"

"Precisely, sir. "

"Where is my wandering boy to-night and all that sort of thing, what?"

"It would seem so, sir. "

"Well, we had better bring him in, eh?"

"Yes, sir. "

So we lugged him in, and Jeeves put him to bed, and I lit a cigaretteand sat down to think the thing over. I had a kind of foreboding. Itseemed to me that I had let myself in for something pretty rocky. 

Next morning, after I had sucked down a thoughtful cup of tea, I wentinto Motty's room to investigate. I expected to find the fellow awreck, but there he was, sitting up in bed, quite chirpy, readingGingery stories. 

"What ho!" I said. 

"What ho!" said Motty. 

"What ho! What ho!"

"What ho! What ho! What ho!"

After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation. 

"How are you feeling this morning?" I asked. 

"Topping!" replied Motty, blithely and with abandon. "I say, you know, that fellow of yours--Jeeves, you know--is a corker. I had a mostfrightful headache when I woke up, and he brought me a sort of rummydark drink, and it put me right again at once. Said it was his owninvention. I must see more of that lad. He seems to me distinctly oneof the ones!"

I couldn't believe that this was the same blighter who had sat andsucked his stick the day before. 

"You ate something that disagreed with you last night, didn't you?" Isaid, by way of giving him a chance to slide out of it if he wanted to. But he wouldn't have it, at any price. 

"No!" he replied firmly. "I didn't do anything of the kind. I drank toomuch! Much too much. Lots and lots too much! And, what's more, I'mgoing to do it again! I'm going to do it every night. If ever you seeme sober, old top, " he said, with a kind of holy exaltation, "tap me onthe shoulder and say, 'Tut! Tut!' and I'll apologize and remedy thedefect. "

"But I say, you know, what about me?"

"What about you?"

"Well, I'm so to speak, as it were, kind of responsible for you. What Imean to say is, if you go doing this sort of thing I'm apt to get inthe soup somewhat. "

"I can't help your troubles, " said Motty firmly. "Listen to me, oldthing: this is the first time in my life that I've had a real chance toyield to the temptations of a great city. What's the use of a greatcity having temptations if fellows don't yield to them? Makes it sobally discouraging for a great city. Besides, mother told me to keep myeyes open and collect impressions. "

I sat on the edge of the bed. I felt dizzy. 

"I know just how you feel, old dear, " said Motty consolingly. "And, ifmy principles would permit it, I would simmer down for your sake. Butduty first! This is the first time I've been let out alone, and I meanto make the most of it. We're only young once. Why interfere withlife's morning? Young man, rejoice in thy youth! Tra-la! What ho!"

Put like that, it did seem reasonable. 

"All my bally life, dear boy, " Motty went on, "I've been cooped up inthe ancestral home at Much Middlefold, in Shropshire, and till you'vebeen cooped up in Much Middlefold you don't know what cooping is! Theonly time we get any excitement is when one of the choir-boys is caughtsucking chocolate during the sermon. When that happens, we talk aboutit for days. I've got about a month of New York, and I mean to store upa few happy memories for the long winter evenings. This is my onlychance to collect a past, and I'm going to do it. Now tell me, oldsport, as man to man, how does one get in touch with that very decentchappie Jeeves? Does one ring a bell or shout a bit? I should like todiscuss the subject of a good stiff b. -and-s. With him!"

 * * * * *

I had had a sort of vague idea, don't you know, that if I stuck closeto Motty and went about the place with him, I might act as a bit of adamper on the gaiety. What I mean is, I thought that if, when he wasbeing the life and soul of the party, he were to catch my reproving eyehe might ease up a trifle on the revelry. So the next night I took himalong to supper with me. It was the last time. I'm a quiet, peacefulsort of chappie who has lived all his life in London, and I can't standthe pace these swift sportsmen from the rural districts set. What Imean to say is this, I'm all for rational enjoyment and so forth, but Ithink a chappie makes himself conspicuous when he throws soft-boiledeggs at the electric fan. And decent mirth and all that sort of thingare all right, but I do bar dancing on tables and having to dash allover the place dodging waiters, managers, and chuckers-out, just whenyou want to sit still and digest. 

Directly I managed to tear myself away that night and get home, I madeup my mind that this was jolly well the last time that I went aboutwith Motty. The only time I met him late at night after that was oncewhen I passed the door of a fairly low-down sort of restaurant and hadto step aside to dodge him as he sailed through the air _en route_for the opposite pavement, with a muscular sort of looking chappiepeering out after him with a kind of gloomy satisfaction. 

In a way, I couldn't help sympathizing with the fellow. He had aboutfour weeks to have the good time that ought to have been spread overabout ten years, and I didn't wonder at his wanting to be pretty busy. I should have been just the same in his place. Still, there was nodenying that it was a bit thick. If it hadn't been for the thought ofLady Malvern and Aunt Agatha in the background, I should have regardedMotty's rapid work with an indulgent smile. But I couldn't get rid ofthe feeling that, sooner or later, I was the lad who was scheduled toget it behind the ear. And what with brooding on this prospect, andsitting up in the old flat waiting for the familiar footstep, andputting it to bed when it got there, and stealing into the sick-chambernext morning to contemplate the wreckage, I was beginning to loseweight. Absolutely becoming the good old shadow, I give you my honestword. Starting at sudden noises and what-not. 

And no sympathy from Jeeves. That was what cut me to the quick. The manwas still thoroughly pipped about the hat and tie, and simply wouldn'trally round. One morning I wanted comforting so much that I sank thepride of the Woosters and appealed to the fellow direct. 

"Jeeves, " I said, "this is getting a bit thick!"

"Sir?" Business and cold respectfulness. 

"You know what I mean. This lad seems to have chucked all theprinciples of a well-spent boyhood. He has got it up his nose!"

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, I shall get blamed, don't you know. You know what my Aunt Agathais!"

"Yes, sir. "

"Very well, then. "

I waited a moment, but he wouldn't unbend. 

"Jeeves, " I said, "haven't you any scheme up your sleeve for copingwith this blighter?"

"No, sir. "

And he shimmered off to his lair. Obstinate devil! So dashed absurd, don't you know. It wasn't as if there was anything wrong with thatCountry Gentleman hat. It was a remarkably priceless effort, and muchadmired by the lads. But, just because he preferred the Longacre, heleft me flat. 

It was shortly after this that young Motty got the idea of bringingpals back in the small hours to continue the gay revels in the home. This was where I began to crack under the strain. You see, the part oftown where I was living wasn't the right place for that sort of thing. I knew lots of chappies down Washington Square way who started theevening at about 2 a. M. --artists and writers and what-not, whofrolicked considerably till checked by the arrival of the morning milk. That was all right. They like that sort of thing down there. Theneighbours can't get to sleep unless there's someone dancing Hawaiiandances over their heads. But on Fifty-seventh Street the atmospherewasn't right, and when Motty turned up at three in the morning with acollection of hearty lads, who only stopped singing their college songwhen they started singing "The Old Oaken Bucket, " there was a markedpeevishness among the old settlers in the flats. The management wasextremely terse over the telephone at breakfast-time, and took a lot ofsoothing. 

The next night I came home early, after a lonely dinner at a placewhich I'd chosen because there didn't seem any chance of meeting Mottythere. The sitting-room was quite dark, and I was just moving to switchon the light, when there was a sort of explosion and something collaredhold of my trouser-leg. Living with Motty had reduced me to such anextent that I was simply unable to cope with this thing. I jumpedbackward with a loud yell of anguish, and tumbled out into the halljust as Jeeves came out of his den to see what the matter was. 

"Did you call, sir?"

"Jeeves! There's something in there that grabs you by the leg!"

"That would be Rollo, sir. "

"Eh?"

"I would have warned you of his presence, but I did not hear you comein. His temper is a little uncertain at present, as he has not yetsettled down. "

"Who the deuce is Rollo?"

"His lordship's bull-terrier, sir. His lordship won him in a raffle, and tied him to the leg of the table. If you will allow me, sir, I willgo in and switch on the light. "

There really is nobody like Jeeves. He walked straight into thesitting-room, the biggest feat since Daniel and the lions' den, withouta quiver. What's more, his magnetism or whatever they call it was suchthat the dashed animal, instead of pinning him by the leg, calmed downas if he had had a bromide, and rolled over on his back with all hispaws in the air. If Jeeves had been his rich uncle he couldn't havebeen more chummy. Yet directly he caught sight of me again, he got allworked up and seemed to have only one idea in life--to start chewing mewhere he had left off. 

"Rollo is not used to you yet, sir, " said Jeeves, regarding the ballyquadruped in an admiring sort of way. "He is an excellent watchdog. "

"I don't want a watchdog to keep me out of my rooms. "

"No, sir. "

"Well, what am I to do?"

"No doubt in time the animal will learn to discriminate, sir. He willlearn to distinguish your peculiar scent. "

"What do you mean--my peculiar scent? Correct the impression that Iintend to hang about in the hall while life slips by, in the hope thatone of these days that dashed animal will decide that I smell allright. " I thought for a bit. "Jeeves!"

"Sir?"

"I'm going away--to-morrow morning by the first train. I shall go andstop with Mr. Todd in the country. "

"Do you wish me to accompany you, sir?"

"No. "

"Very good, sir. "

"I don't know when I shall be back. Forward my letters. "

"Yes, sir. "

 * * * * *

As a matter of fact, I was back within the week. Rocky Todd, the pal Iwent to stay with, is a rummy sort of a chap who lives all alone in thewilds of Long Island, and likes it; but a little of that sort of thinggoes a long way with me. Dear old Rocky is one of the best, but after afew days in his cottage in the woods, miles away from anywhere, NewYork, even with Motty on the premises, began to look pretty good to me. The days down on Long Island have forty-eight hours in them; you can'tget to sleep at night because of the bellowing of the crickets; and youhave to walk two miles for a drink and six for an evening paper. Ithanked Rocky for his kind hospitality, and caught the only train theyhave down in those parts. It landed me in New York about dinner-time. Iwent straight to the old flat. Jeeves came out of his lair. I lookedround cautiously for Rollo. 

"Where's that dog, Jeeves? Have you got him tied up?"

"The animal is no longer here, sir. His lordship gave him to theporter, who sold him. His lordship took a prejudice against the animalon account of being bitten by him in the calf of the leg. "

I don't think I've ever been so bucked by a bit of news. I felt I hadmisjudged Rollo. Evidently, when you got to know him better, he had alot of intelligence in him. 

"Ripping!" I said. "Is Lord Pershore in, Jeeves?"

"No, sir. "

"Do you expect him back to dinner?"

"No, sir. "

"Where is he?"

"In prison, sir. "

Have you ever trodden on a rake and had the handle jump up and hit you?That's how I felt then. 

"In prison!"

"Yes, sir. "

"You don't mean--in prison?"

"Yes, sir. "

I lowered myself into a chair. 

"Why?" I said. 

"He assaulted a constable, sir. "

"Lord Pershore assaulted a constable!"

"Yes, sir. "

I digested this. 

"But, Jeeves, I say! This is frightful!"

"Sir?"

"What will Lady Malvern say when she finds out?"

"I do not fancy that her ladyship will find out, sir. "

"But she'll come back and want to know where he is. "

"I rather fancy, sir, that his lordship's bit of time will have run outby then. "

"But supposing it hasn't?"

"In that event, sir, it may be judicious to prevaricate a little. "

"How?"

"If I might make the suggestion, sir, I should inform her ladyship thathis lordship has left for a short visit to Boston. "

"Why Boston?"

"Very interesting and respectable centre, sir. "

"Jeeves, I believe you've hit it. "

"I fancy so, sir. "

"Why, this is really the best thing that could have happened. If thishadn't turned up to prevent him, young Motty would have been in asanatorium by the time Lady Malvern got back. "

"Exactly, sir. "

The more I looked at it in that way, the sounder this prison wheezeseemed to me. There was no doubt in the world that prison was just whatthe doctor ordered for Motty. It was the only thing that could havepulled him up. I was sorry for the poor blighter, but, after all, Ireflected, a chappie who had lived all his life with Lady Malvern, in asmall village in the interior of Shropshire, wouldn't have much to kickat in a prison. Altogether, I began to feel absolutely braced again. Life became like what the poet Johnnie says--one grand, sweet song. Things went on so comfortably and peacefully for a couple of weeks thatI give you my word that I'd almost forgotten such a person as Mottyexisted. The only flaw in the scheme of things was that Jeeves wasstill pained and distant. It wasn't anything he said or did, mind you, but there was a rummy something about him all the time. Once when I wastying the pink tie I caught sight of him in the looking-glass. Therewas a kind of grieved look in his eye. 

And then Lady Malvern came back, a good bit ahead of schedule. I hadn'tbeen expecting her for days. I'd forgotten how time had been slippingalong. She turned up one morning while I was still in bed sipping teaand thinking of this and that. Jeeves flowed in with the announcementthat he had just loosed her into the sitting-room. I draped a fewgarments round me and went in. 

There she was, sitting in the same arm-chair, looking as massive asever. The only difference was that she didn't uncover the teeth, as shehad done the first time. 

"Good morning, " I said. "So you've got back, what?"

"I have got back. "

There was something sort of bleak about her tone, rather as if she hadswallowed an east wind. This I took to be due to the fact that sheprobably hadn't breakfasted. It's only after a bit of breakfast thatI'm able to regard the world with that sunny cheeriness which makes afellow the universal favourite. I'm never much of a lad till I'veengulfed an egg or two and a beaker of coffee. 

"I suppose you haven't breakfasted?"

"I have not yet breakfasted. "

"Won't you have an egg or something? Or a sausage or something? Orsomething?"

"No, thank you. "

She spoke as if she belonged to an anti-sausage society or a league forthe suppression of eggs. There was a bit of a silence. 

"I called on you last night, " she said, "but you were out. "

"Awfully sorry! Had a pleasant trip?"

"Extremely, thank you. "

"See everything? Niag'ra Falls, Yellowstone Park, and the jolly oldGrand Canyon, and what-not?"

"I saw a great deal. "

There was another slightly _frappé_ silence. Jeeves floatedsilently into the dining-room and began to lay the breakfast-table. 

"I hope Wilmot was not in your way, Mr. Wooster?"

I had been wondering when she was going to mention Motty. 

"Rather not! Great pals! Hit it off splendidly. "

"You were his constant companion, then?"

"Absolutely! We were always together. Saw all the sights, don't youknow. We'd take in the Museum of Art in the morning, and have a bit oflunch at some good vegetarian place, and then toddle along to a sacredconcert in the afternoon, and home to an early dinner. We usuallyplayed dominoes after dinner. And then the early bed and the refreshingsleep. We had a great time. I was awfully sorry when he went away toBoston. "

"Oh! Wilmot is in Boston?"

"Yes. I ought to have let you know, but of course we didn't know whereyou were. You were dodging all over the place like a snipe--I mean, don't you know, dodging all over the place, and we couldn't get at you. Yes, Motty went off to Boston. "

"You're sure he went to Boston?"

"Oh, absolutely. " I called out to Jeeves, who was now messing about inthe next room with forks and so forth: "Jeeves, Lord Pershore didn'tchange his mind about going to Boston, did he?"

"No, sir. "

"I thought I was right. Yes, Motty went to Boston. "

"Then how do you account, Mr. Wooster, for the fact that when I wentyesterday afternoon to Blackwell's Island prison, to secure materialfor my book, I saw poor, dear Wilmot there, dressed in a striped suit, seated beside a pile of stones with a hammer in his hands?"

I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came. A chappie hasto be a lot broader about the forehead than I am to handle a jolt likethis. I strained the old bean till it creaked, but between the collarand the hair parting nothing stirred. I was dumb. Which was lucky, because I wouldn't have had a chance to get any persiflage out of mysystem. Lady Malvern collared the conversation. She had been bottlingit up, and now it came out with a rush:

"So this is how you have looked after my poor, dear boy, Mr. Wooster!So this is how you have abused my trust! I left him in your charge, thinking that I could rely on you to shield him from evil. He came toyou innocent, unversed in the ways of the world, confiding, unused tothe temptations of a large city, and you led him astray!"

I hadn't any remarks to make. All I could think of was the picture ofAunt Agatha drinking all this in and reaching out to sharpen thehatchet against my return. 

"You deliberately----"

Far away in the misty distance a soft voice spoke:

"If I might explain, your ladyship. "

Jeeves had projected himself in from the dining-room and materializedon the rug. Lady Malvern tried to freeze him with a look, but you can'tdo that sort of thing to Jeeves. He is look-proof. 

"I fancy, your ladyship, that you have misunderstood Mr. Wooster, andthat he may have given you the impression that he was in New York whenhis lordship--was removed. When Mr. Wooster informed your ladyship thathis lordship had gone to Boston, he was relying on the version I hadgiven him of his lordship's movements. Mr. Wooster was away, visiting afriend in the country, at the time, and knew nothing of the matter tillyour ladyship informed him. "

Lady Malvern gave a kind of grunt. It didn't rattle Jeeves. 

"I feared Mr. Wooster might be disturbed if he knew the truth, as he isso attached to his lordship and has taken such pains to look after him, so I took the liberty of telling him that his lordship had gone awayfor a visit. It might have been hard for Mr. Wooster to believe thathis lordship had gone to prison voluntarily and from the best motives, but your ladyship, knowing him better, will readily understand. "

"What!" Lady Malvern goggled at him. "Did you say that Lord Pershorewent to prison voluntarily?"

"If I might explain, your ladyship. I think that your ladyship'sparting words made a deep impression on his lordship. I have frequentlyheard him speak to Mr. Wooster of his desire to do something to followyour ladyship's instructions and collect material for your ladyship'sbook on America. Mr. Wooster will bear me out when I say that hislordship was frequently extremely depressed at the thought that he wasdoing so little to help. "

"Absolutely, by Jove! Quite pipped about it!" I said. 

"The idea of making a personal examination into the prison system ofthe country--from within--occurred to his lordship very suddenly onenight. He embraced it eagerly. There was no restraining him. "

Lady Malvern looked at Jeeves, then at me, then at Jeeves again. Icould see her struggling with the thing. 

"Surely, your ladyship, " said Jeeves, "it is more reasonable to supposethat a gentleman of his lordship's character went to prison of his ownvolition than that he committed some breach of the law whichnecessitated his arrest?"

Lady Malvern blinked. Then she got up. 

"Mr. Wooster, " she said, "I apologize. I have done you an injustice. Ishould have known Wilmot better. I should have had more faith in hispure, fine spirit. "

"Absolutely!" I said. 

"Your breakfast is ready, sir, " said Jeeves. 

I sat down and dallied in a dazed sort of way with a poached egg. 

"Jeeves, " I said, "you are certainly a life-saver!"

"Thank you, sir. "

"Nothing would have convinced my Aunt Agatha that I hadn't lured thatblighter into riotous living. "

"I fancy you are right, sir. "

I champed my egg for a bit. I was most awfully moved, don't you know, by the way Jeeves had rallied round. Something seemed to tell me thatthis was an occasion that called for rich rewards. For a moment Ihesitated. Then I made up my mind. 

"Jeeves!"

"Sir?"

"That pink tie!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Burn it!"

"Thank you, sir. "

"And, Jeeves!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Take a taxi and get me that Longacre hat, as worn by John Drew!"

"Thank you very much, sir. "

I felt most awfully braced. I felt as if the clouds had rolled away andall was as it used to be. I felt like one of those chappies in thenovels who calls off the fight with his wife in the last chapter anddecides to forget and forgive. I felt I wanted to do all sorts of otherthings to show Jeeves that I appreciated him. 

"Jeeves, " I said, "it isn't enough. Is there anything else you wouldlike?"

"Yes, sir. If I may make the suggestion--fifty dollars. "

"Fifty dollars?"

"It will enable me to pay a debt of honour, sir. I owe it to hislordship. "

"You owe Lord Pershore fifty dollars?"

"Yes, sir. I happened to meet him in the street the night his lordshipwas arrested. I had been thinking a good deal about the most suitablemethod of inducing him to abandon his mode of living, sir. His lordshipwas a little over-excited at the time and I fancy that he mistook mefor a friend of his. At any rate when I took the liberty of wageringhim fifty dollars that he would not punch a passing policeman in theeye, he accepted the bet very cordially and won it. "

I produced my pocket-book and counted out a hundred. 

"Take this, Jeeves, " I said; "fifty isn't enough. Do you know, Jeeves, you're--well, you absolutely stand alone!"

"I endeavour to give satisfaction, sir, " said Jeeves. 

JEEVES AND THE HARD-BOILED EGG

Sometimes of a morning, as I've sat in bed sucking down the early cupof tea and watched my man Jeeves flitting about the room and puttingout the raiment for the day, I've wondered what the deuce I should doif the fellow ever took it into his head to leave me. It's not so badnow I'm in New York, but in London the anxiety was frightful. Thereused to be all sorts of attempts on the part of low blighters to sneakhim away from me. Young Reggie Foljambe to my certain knowledge offeredhim double what I was giving him, and Alistair Bingham-Reeves, who'sgot a valet who had been known to press his trousers sideways, used tolook at him, when he came to see me, with a kind of glittering hungryeye which disturbed me deucedly. Bally pirates!

The thing, you see, is that Jeeves is so dashed competent. You can spotit even in the way he shoves studs into a shirt. 

I rely on him absolutely in every crisis, and he never lets me down. And, what's more, he can always be counted on to extend himselfon behalf of any pal of mine who happens to be to all appearancesknee-deep in the bouillon. Take the rather rummy case, for instance, of dear old Bicky and his uncle, the hard-boiled egg. 

It happened after I had been in America for a few months. I got back tothe flat latish one night, and when Jeeves brought me the final drinkhe said:

"Mr. Bickersteth called to see you this evening, sir, while you wereout. "

"Oh?" I said. 

"Twice, sir. He appeared a trifle agitated. "

"What, pipped?"

"He gave that impression, sir. "

I sipped the whisky. I was sorry if Bicky was in trouble, but, as amatter of fact, I was rather glad to have something I could discussfreely with Jeeves just then, because things had been a bit strainedbetween us for some time, and it had been rather difficult to hit onanything to talk about that wasn't apt to take a personal turn. Yousee, I had decided--rightly or wrongly--to grow a moustache and thishad cut Jeeves to the quick. He couldn't stick the thing at any price, and I had been living ever since in an atmosphere of bally disapprovaltill I was getting jolly well fed up with it. What I mean is, whilethere's no doubt that in certain matters of dress Jeeves's judgment isabsolutely sound and should be followed, it seemed to me that it wasgetting a bit too thick if he was going to edit my face as well as mycostume. No one can call me an unreasonable chappie, and many's thetime I've given in like a lamb when Jeeves has voted against one of mypet suits or ties; but when it comes to a valet's staking out a claimon your upper lip you've simply got to have a bit of the good oldbulldog pluck and defy the blighter. 

"He said that he would call again later, sir. "

"Something must be up, Jeeves. "

"Yes, sir. "

I gave the moustache a thoughtful twirl. It seemed to hurt Jeeves agood deal, so I chucked it. 

"I see by the paper, sir, that Mr. Bickersteth's uncle is arriving onthe _Carmantic_. "

"Yes?"

"His Grace the Duke of Chiswick, sir. "

This was news to me, that Bicky's uncle was a duke. Rum, how little oneknows about one's pals! I had met Bicky for the first time at a speciesof beano or jamboree down in Washington Square, not long after myarrival in New York. I suppose I was a bit homesick at the time, and Irather took to Bicky when I found that he was an Englishman and had, infact, been up at Oxford with me. Besides, he was a frightful chump, sowe naturally drifted together; and while we were taking a quiet snortin a corner that wasn't all cluttered up with artists and sculptors andwhat-not, he furthermore endeared himself to me by a most extraordinarilygifted imitation of a bull-terrier chasing a cat up a tree. But, thoughwe had subsequently become extremely pally, all I really knew about himwas that he was generally hard up, and had an uncle who relieved thestrain a bit from time to time by sending him monthly remittances. 

"If the Duke of Chiswick is his uncle, " I said, "why hasn't he a title?Why isn't he Lord What-Not?"

"Mr. Bickersteth is the son of his grace's late sister, sir, whomarried Captain Rollo Bickersteth of the Coldstream Guards. "

Jeeves knows everything. 

"Is Mr. Bickersteth's father dead, too?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Leave any money?"

"No, sir. "

I began to understand why poor old Bicky was always more or less on therocks. To the casual and irreflective observer, if you know what Imean, it may sound a pretty good wheeze having a duke for an uncle, butthe trouble about old Chiswick was that, though an extremely wealthyold buster, owning half London and about five counties up north, he wasnotoriously the most prudent spender in England. He was what Americanchappies would call a hard-boiled egg. If Bicky's people hadn't lefthim anything and he depended on what he could prise out of the oldduke, he was in a pretty bad way. Not that that explained why he washunting me like this, because he was a chap who never borrowed money. He said he wanted to keep his pals, so never bit any one's ear onprinciple. 

At this juncture the door bell rang. Jeeves floated out to answer it. 

"Yes, sir. Mr. Wooster has just returned, " I heard him say. And Bickycame trickling in, looking pretty sorry for himself. 

"Halloa, Bicky!" I said. "Jeeves told me you had been trying to get me. Jeeves, bring another glass, and let the revels commence. What's thetrouble, Bicky?"

"I'm in a hole, Bertie. I want your advice. "

"Say on, old lad!"

"My uncle's turning up to-morrow, Bertie. "

"So Jeeves told me. "

"The Duke of Chiswick, you know. "

"So Jeeves told me. "

Bicky seemed a bit surprised. 

"Jeeves seems to know everything. "

"Rather rummily, that's exactly what I was thinking just now myself. "

"Well, I wish, " said Bicky gloomily, "that he knew a way to get me outof the hole I'm in. "

Jeeves shimmered in with the glass, and stuck it competently on thetable. 

"Mr. Bickersteth is in a bit of a hole, Jeeves, " I said, "and wants youto rally round. "

"Very good, sir. "

Bicky looked a bit doubtful. 

"Well, of course, you know, Bertie, this thing is by way of being a bitprivate and all that. "

"I shouldn't worry about that, old top. I bet Jeeves knows all about italready. Don't you, Jeeves?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Eh!" said Bicky, rattled. 

"I am open to correction, sir, but is not your dilemma due to the factthat you are at a loss to explain to his grace why you are in New Yorkinstead of in Colorado?"

Bicky rocked like a jelly in a high wind. 

"How the deuce do you know anything about it?"

"I chanced to meet his grace's butler before we left England. Heinformed me that he happened to overhear his grace speaking to you onthe matter, sir, as he passed the library door. "

Bicky gave a hollow sort of laugh. 

"Well, as everybody seems to know all about it, there's no need to tryto keep it dark. The old boy turfed me out, Bertie, because he said Iwas a brainless nincompoop. The idea was that he would give me aremittance on condition that I dashed out to some blighted locality ofthe name of Colorado and learned farming or ranching, or whatever theycall it, at some bally ranch or farm or whatever it's called. I didn'tfancy the idea a bit. I should have had to ride horses and pursue cows, and so forth. I hate horses. They bite at you. I was all against thescheme. At the same time, don't you know, I had to have thatremittance. "

"I get you absolutely, dear boy. "

"Well, when I got to New York it looked a decent sort of place to me, so I thought it would be a pretty sound notion to stop here. So Icabled to my uncle telling him that I had dropped into a good businesswheeze in the city and wanted to chuck the ranch idea. He wrote backthat it was all right, and here I've been ever since. He thinks I'mdoing well at something or other over here. I never dreamed, don't youknow, that he would ever come out here. What on earth am I to do?"

"Jeeves, " I said, "what on earth is Mr. Bickersteth to do?"

"You see, " said Bicky, "I had a wireless from him to say that he wascoming to stay with me--to save hotel bills, I suppose. I've alwaysgiven him the impression that I was living in pretty good style. Ican't have him to stay at my boarding-house. "

"Thought of anything, Jeeves?" I said. 

"To what extent, sir, if the question is not a delicate one, are youprepared to assist Mr. Bickersteth?"

"I'll do anything I can for you, of course, Bicky, old man. "

"Then, if I might make the suggestion, sir, you might lend Mr. Bickersteth----"

"No, by Jove!" said Bicky firmly. "I never have touched you, Bertie, and I'm not going to start now. I may be a chump, but it's my boastthat I don't owe a penny to a single soul--not counting tradesmen, ofcourse. "

"I was about to suggest, sir, that you might lend Mr. Bickersteth thisflat. Mr. Bickersteth could give his grace the impression that he wasthe owner of it. With your permission I could convey the notion that Iwas in Mr. Bickersteth's employment, and not in yours. You would beresiding here temporarily as Mr. Bickersteth's guest. His grace wouldoccupy the second spare bedroom. I fancy that you would find thisanswer satisfactorily, sir. "

Bicky had stopped rocking himself and was staring at Jeeves in an awedsort of way. 

"I would advocate the dispatching of a wireless message to his graceon board the vessel, notifying him of the change of address. Mr. Bickersteth could meet his grace at the dock and proceed directly here. Will that meet the situation, sir?"

"Absolutely. "

"Thank you, sir. "

Bicky followed him with his eye till the door closed. 

"How does he do it, Bertie?" he said. "I'll tell you what I think itis. I believe it's something to do with the shape of his head. Have youever noticed his head, Bertie, old man? It sort of sticks out at theback!"

 * * * * *

I hopped out of bed early next morning, so as to be among those presentwhen the old boy should arrive. I knew from experience that these oceanliners fetch up at the dock at a deucedly ungodly hour. It wasn't muchafter nine by the time I'd dressed and had my morning tea and wasleaning out of the window, watching the street for Bicky and his uncle. It was one of those jolly, peaceful mornings that make a chappie wishhe'd got a soul or something, and I was just brooding on life ingeneral when I became aware of the dickens of a spate in progress downbelow. A taxi had driven up, and an old boy in a top hat had got outand was kicking up a frightful row about the fare. As far as I couldmake out, he was trying to get the cab chappie to switch from New Yorkto London prices, and the cab chappie had apparently never heard ofLondon before, and didn't seem to think a lot of it now. The old boysaid that in London the trip would have set him back eightpence; andthe cabby said he should worry. I called to Jeeves. 

"The duke has arrived, Jeeves. "

"Yes, sir?"

"That'll be him at the door now. "

Jeeves made a long arm and opened the front door, and the old boycrawled in, looking licked to a splinter. 

"How do you do, sir?" I said, bustling up and being the ray ofsunshine. "Your nephew went down to the dock to meet you, but you musthave missed him. My name's Wooster, don't you know. Great pal ofBicky's, and all that sort of thing. I'm staying with him, you know. Would you like a cup of tea? Jeeves, bring a cup of tea. "

Old Chiswick had sunk into an arm-chair and was looking about the room. 

"Does this luxurious flat belong to my nephew Francis?"

"Absolutely. "

"It must be terribly expensive. "

"Pretty well, of course. Everything costs a lot over here, you know. "

He moaned. Jeeves filtered in with the tea. Old Chiswick took a stab atit to restore his tissues, and nodded. 

"A terrible country, Mr. Wooster! A terrible country! Nearly eightshillings for a short cab-drive! Iniquitous!" He took another lookround the room. It seemed to fascinate him. "Have you any idea howmuch my nephew pays for this flat, Mr. Wooster?"

"About two hundred dollars a month, I believe. "

"What! Forty pounds a month!"

I began to see that, unless I made the thing a bit more plausible, thescheme might turn out a frost. I could guess what the old boy wasthinking. He was trying to square all this prosperity with what he knewof poor old Bicky. And one had to admit that it took a lot of squaring, for dear old Bicky, though a stout fellow and absolutely unrivalled asan imitator of bull-terriers and cats, was in many ways one of the mostpronounced fatheads that ever pulled on a suit of gent's underwear. 

"I suppose it seems rummy to you, " I said, "but the fact is New Yorkoften bucks chappies up and makes them show a flash of speed that youwouldn't have imagined them capable of. It sort of develops them. Something in the air, don't you know. I imagine that Bicky in the past, when you knew him, may have been something of a chump, but it's quitedifferent now. Devilish efficient sort of chappie, and looked on incommercial circles as quite the nib!"

"I am amazed! What is the nature of my nephew's business, Mr. Wooster?"

"Oh, just business, don't you know. The same sort of thing Carnegie andRockefeller and all these coves do, you know. " I slid for the door. "Awfully sorry to leave you, but I've got to meet some of the ladselsewhere. "

Coming out of the lift I met Bicky bustling in from the street. 

"Halloa, Bertie! I missed him. Has he turned up?"

"He's upstairs now, having some tea. "

"What does he think of it all?"

"He's absolutely rattled. "

"Ripping! I'll be toddling up, then. Toodle-oo, Bertie, old man. Seeyou later. "

"Pip-pip, Bicky, dear boy. "

He trotted off, full of merriment and good cheer, and I went off to theclub to sit in the window and watch the traffic coming up one way andgoing down the other. 

It was latish in the evening when I looked in at the flat to dress fordinner. 

"Where's everybody, Jeeves?" I said, finding no little feet patteringabout the place. "Gone out?"

"His grace desired to see some of the sights of the city, sir. Mr. Bickersteth is acting as his escort. I fancy their immediate objectivewas Grant's Tomb. "

"I suppose Mr. Bickersteth is a bit braced at the way things aregoing--what?"

"Sir?"

"I say, I take it that Mr. Bickersteth is tolerably full of beans. "

"Not altogether, sir. "

"What's his trouble now?"

"The scheme which I took the liberty of suggesting to Mr. Bickerstethand yourself has, unfortunately, not answered entirely satisfactorily, sir. "

"Surely the duke believes that Mr. Bickersteth is doing well inbusiness, and all that sort of thing?"

"Exactly, sir. With the result that he has decided to cancel Mr. Bickersteth's monthly allowance, on the ground that, as Mr. Bickerstethis doing so well on his own account, he no longer requires pecuniaryassistance. "

"Great Scot, Jeeves! This is awful. "

"Somewhat disturbing, sir. "

"I never expected anything like this!"

"I confess I scarcely anticipated the contingency myself, sir. "

"I suppose it bowled the poor blighter over absolutely?"

"Mr. Bickersteth appeared somewhat taken aback, sir. "

My heart bled for Bicky. 

"We must do something, Jeeves. "

"Yes, sir. "

"Can you think of anything?"

"Not at the moment, sir. "

"There must be something we can do. "

"It was a maxim of one of my former employers, sir--as I believe Imentioned to you once before--the present Lord Bridgnorth, that thereis always a way. I remember his lordship using the expression on theoccasion--he was then a business gentleman and had not yet received histitle--when a patent hair-restorer which he chanced to be promotingfailed to attract the public. He put it on the market under anothername as a depilatory, and amassed a substantial fortune. I havegenerally found his lordship's aphorism based on sound foundations. Nodoubt we shall be able to discover some solution of Mr. Bickersteth'sdifficulty, sir. "

"Well, have a stab at it, Jeeves!"

"I will spare no pains, sir. "

I went and dressed sadly. It will show you pretty well how pipped I waswhen I tell you that I near as a toucher put on a white tie with adinner-jacket. I sallied out for a bit of food more to pass the timethan because I wanted it. It seemed brutal to be wading into the billof fare with poor old Bicky headed for the breadline. 

When I got back old Chiswick had gone to bed, but Bicky was there, hunched up in an arm-chair, brooding pretty tensely, with a cigarettehanging out of the corner of his mouth and a more or less glassy starein his eyes. He had the aspect of one who had been soaked with what thenewspaper chappies call "some blunt instrument. "

"This is a bit thick, old thing--what!" I said. 

He picked up his glass and drained it feverishly, overlooking the factthat it hadn't anything in it. 

"I'm done, Bertie!" he said. 

He had another go at the glass. It didn't seem to do him any good. 

"If only this had happened a week later, Bertie! My next month's moneywas due to roll in on Saturday. I could have worked a wheeze I've beenreading about in the magazine advertisements. It seems that you canmake a dashed amount of money if you can only collect a few dollarsand start a chicken-farm. Jolly sound scheme, Bertie! Say you buy ahen--call it one hen for the sake of argument. It lays an egg everyday of the week. You sell the eggs seven for twenty-five cents. Keepof hen costs nothing. Profit practically twenty-five cents on everyseven eggs. Or look at it another way: Suppose you have a dozen eggs. Each of the hens has a dozen chickens. The chickens grow up and havemore chickens. Why, in no time you'd have the place covered knee-deepin hens, all laying eggs, at twenty-five cents for every seven. You'dmake a fortune. Jolly life, too, keeping hens!" He had begun to getquite worked up at the thought of it, but he slopped back in his chairat this juncture with a good deal of gloom. "But, of course, it's nogood, " he said, "because I haven't the cash. "

"You've only to say the word, you know, Bicky, old top. "

"Thanks awfully, Bertie, but I'm not going to sponge on you. "

That's always the way in this world. The chappies you'd like to lendmoney to won't let you, whereas the chappies you don't want to lend itto will do everything except actually stand you on your head and liftthe specie out of your pockets. As a lad who has always rolledtolerably free in the right stuff, I've had lots of experience of thesecond class. Many's the time, back in London, I've hurried alongPiccadilly and felt the hot breath of the toucher on the back of myneck and heard his sharp, excited yapping as he closed in on me. I'vesimply spent my life scattering largesse to blighters I didn't care ahang for; yet here was I now, dripping doubloons and pieces of eightand longing to hand them over, and Bicky, poor fish, absolutely on hisuppers, not taking any at any price. 

"Well, there's only one hope, then. "

"What's that?"

"Jeeves. "

"Sir?"

There was Jeeves, standing behind me, full of zeal. In this matter ofshimmering into rooms the chappie is rummy to a degree. You're sittingin the old armchair, thinking of this and that, and then suddenly youlook up, and there he is. He moves from point to point with as littleuproar as a jelly fish. The thing startled poor old Bicky considerably. He rose from his seat like a rocketing pheasant. I'm used to Jeevesnow, but often in the days when he first came to me I've bitten mytongue freely on finding him unexpectedly in my midst. 

"Did you call, sir?"

"Oh, there you are, Jeeves!"

"Precisely, sir. "

"Jeeves, Mr. Bickersteth is still up the pole. Any ideas?"

"Why, yes, sir. Since we had our recent conversation I fancy I havefound what may prove a solution. I do not wish to appear to be taking aliberty, sir, but I think that we have overlooked his grace'spotentialities as a source of revenue. "

Bicky laughed, what I have sometimes seen described as a hollow, mocking laugh, a sort of bitter cackle from the back of the throat, rather like a gargle. 

"I do not allude, sir, " explained Jeeves, "to the possibility ofinducing his grace to part with money. I am taking the liberty ofregarding his grace in the light of an at present--if I may sayso--useless property, which is capable of being developed. "

Bicky looked at me in a helpless kind of way. I'm bound to say I didn'tget it myself. 

"Couldn't you make it a bit easier, Jeeves!"

"In a nutshell, sir, what I mean is this: His grace is, in a sense, aprominent personage. The inhabitants of this country, as no doubt youare aware, sir, are peculiarly addicted to shaking hands with prominentpersonages. It occurred to me that Mr. Bickersteth or yourself mightknow of persons who would be willing to pay a small fee--let us say twodollars or three--for the privilege of an introduction, includinghandshake, to his grace. "

Bicky didn't seem to think much of it. 

"Do you mean to say that anyone would be mug enough to part with solidcash just to shake hands with my uncle?"

"I have an aunt, sir, who paid five shillings to a young fellow forbringing a moving-picture actor to tea at her house one Sunday. It gaveher social standing among the neighbours. "

Bicky wavered. 

"If you think it could be done----"

"I feel convinced of it, sir. "

"What do you think, Bertie?"

"I'm for it, old boy, absolutely. A very brainy wheeze. "

"Thank you, sir. Will there be anything further? Good night, sir. "

And he floated out, leaving us to discuss details. 

Until we started this business of floating old Chiswick as a money-makingproposition I had never realized what a perfectly foul time those StockExchange chappies must have when the public isn't biting freely. NowadaysI read that bit they put in the financial reports about "The marketopened quietly" with a sympathetic eye, for, by Jove, it certainly openedquietly for us! You'd hardly believe how difficult it was to interestthe public and make them take a flutter on the old boy. By the end of theweek the only name we had on our list was a delicatessen-store keeperdown in Bicky's part of the town, and as he wanted us to take it out insliced ham instead of cash that didn't help much. There was a gleam oflight when the brother of Bicky's pawnbroker offered ten dollars, moneydown, for an introduction to old Chiswick, but the deal fell through, owing to its turning out that the chap was an anarchist and intended tokick the old boy instead of shaking hands with him. At that, it took methe deuce of a time to persuade Bicky not to grab the cash and let thingstake their course. He seemed to regard the pawnbroker's brother rather asa sportsman and benefactor of his species than otherwise. 

The whole thing, I'm inclined to think, would have been off if ithadn't been for Jeeves. There is no doubt that Jeeves is in a class ofhis own. In the matter of brain and resource I don't think I have evermet a chappie so supremely like mother made. He trickled into my roomone morning with a good old cup of tea, and intimated that there wassomething doing. 

"Might I speak to you with regard to that matter of his grace, sir?"

"It's all off. We've decided to chuck it. "

"Sir?"

"It won't work. We can't get anybody to come. "

"I fancy I can arrange that aspect of the matter, sir. "

"Do you mean to say you've managed to get anybody?"

"Yes, sir. Eighty-seven gentlemen from Birdsburg, sir. "

I sat up in bed and spilt the tea. 

"Birdsburg?"

"Birdsburg, Missouri, sir. "

"How did you get them?"

"I happened last night, sir, as you had intimated that you would beabsent from home, to attend a theatrical performance, and entered intoconversation between the acts with the occupant of the adjoining seat. I had observed that he was wearing a somewhat ornate decoration in hisbuttonhole, sir--a large blue button with the words 'Boost forBirdsburg' upon it in red letters, scarcely a judicious addition to agentleman's evening costume. To my surprise I noticed that theauditorium was full of persons similarly decorated. I ventured toinquire the explanation, and was informed that these gentlemen, forminga party of eighty-seven, are a convention from a town of the name ifBirdsburg, in the State of Missouri. Their visit, I gathered, waspurely of a social and pleasurable nature, and my informant spoke atsome length of the entertainments arranged for their stay in the city. It was when he related with a considerable amount of satisfaction andpride, that a deputation of their number had been introduced to and hadshaken hands with a well-known prizefighter, that it occurred to me tobroach the subject of his grace. To make a long story short, sir, Ihave arranged, subject to your approval, that the entire conventionshall be presented to his grace to-morrow afternoon. "

I was amazed. This chappie was a Napoleon. 

"Eighty-seven, Jeeves. At how much a head?"

"I was obliged to agree to a reduction for quantity, sir. The termsfinally arrived at were one hundred and fifty dollars for the party. "

I thought a bit. 

"Payable in advance?"

"No, sir. I endeavoured to obtain payment in advance, but was notsuccessful. "

"Well, any way, when we get it I'll make it up to five hundred. Bicky'll never know. Do you suspect Mr. Bickersteth would suspectanything, Jeeves, if I made it up to five hundred?"

"I fancy not, sir. Mr. Bickersteth is an agreeable gentleman, but notbright. "

"All right, then. After breakfast run down to the bank and get me somemoney. "

"Yes, sir. "

"You know, you're a bit of a marvel, Jeeves. "

"Thank you, sir. "

"Right-o!"

"Very good, sir. "

When I took dear old Bicky aside in the course of the morning and toldhim what had happened he nearly broke down. He tottered into thesitting-room and buttonholed old Chiswick, who was reading the comicsection of the morning paper with a kind of grim resolution. 

"Uncle, " he said, "are you doing anything special to-morrow afternoon?I mean to say, I've asked a few of my pals in to meet you, don't youknow. "

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 adhesiveyoung men who endeavoured to elicit from me my views on America whilethe boat was approaching the dock. I will not be subjected to thispersecution again. "

"That'll be absolutely all right, uncle. There won't be a newspaper-manin the place. "

"In that case I shall be glad to make the acquaintance of yourfriends. "

"You'll shake hands with them and so forth?"

"I shall naturally order my behaviour according to the accepted rulesof 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 Birdsburgcontingent on the old boy ten at a time. Jeeves brought his theatre palround to see us, and we arranged the whole thing with him. A verydecent chappie, but rather inclined to collar the conversation and turnit in the direction of his home-town's new water-supply system. Wesettled that, as an hour was about all he would be likely to stand, each gang should consider itself entitled to seven minutes of theduke's society by Jeeves's stop-watch, and that when their time was upJeeves should slide into the room and cough meaningly. Then we partedwith what I believe are called mutual expressions of goodwill, theBirdsburg chappie extending a cordial invitation to us all to pop outsome day and take a look at the new water-supply system, for which wethanked him. 

Next day the deputation rolled in. The first shift consisted of thecove we had met and nine others almost exactly like him in everyrespect. They all looked deuced keen and businesslike, as if from youthup they had been working in the office and catching the boss's eye andwhat-not. They shook hands with the old boy with a good deal ofapparent satisfaction--all except one chappie, who seemed to bebrooding 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 inthe 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 chinsand a cold eye. 

The assemblage looked at him. 

"As a matter of business, " said the chappie--"mind you, I'm notquestioning anybody's good faith, but, as a matter of strictbusiness--I think this gentleman here ought to put himself onrecord 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, butthere's one thing that seems kind of funny to me. This gentleman heresays his name's Mr. Bickersteth, as I understand it. Well, if you'rethe Duke of Chiswick, why isn't he Lord Percy Something? I've readEnglish 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 toknow. You're going to take our money, so it's only fair that we shouldsee that we get our money's worth. "

The water-supply cove chipped in:

"You're quite right, Simms. I overlooked that when making theagreement. You see, gentlemen, as business men we've a right toreasonable guarantees of good faith. We are paying Mr. Bickersteth herea hundred and fifty dollars for this reception, and we naturally wantto know----"

Old Chiswick gave Bicky a searching look; then he turned to thewater-supply chappie. He was frightfully calm. 

"I can assure you that I know nothing of this, " he said, quitepolitely. "I should be grateful if you would explain. "

"Well, we arranged with Mr. Bickersteth that eighty-seven citizensof Birdsburg should have the privilege of meeting and shaking handswith you for a financial consideration mutually arranged, and what myfriend 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 arethe Duke of Chiswick at all. "

Old Chiswick gulped. 

"Allow me to assure you, sir, " he said, in a rummy kind of voice, "thatI am the Duke of Chiswick. "

"Then that's all right, " said the chappie heartily. "That was all wewanted to know. Let the thing go on. "

"I am sorry to say, " said old Chiswick, "that it cannot go on. I amfeeling a little tired. I fear I must ask to be excused. "

"But there are seventy-seven of the boys waiting round the corner atthis 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 Chiswickturned 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 ofmoney to start a chicken farm. I mean to say it's an absolute cert ifyou once get a bit of capital. You buy a hen, and it lays an egg everyday of the week, and you sell the eggs, say, seven for twenty-fivecents. 

"Keep of hens cost nothing. Profit practically----"

"What is all this nonsense about hens? You led me to suppose you were asubstantial 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 remittanceof yours, and when you cut it off, don't you know, he was pretty solidlyin the soup, and had to think of some way of closing in on a bit of theready pretty quick. That's why we thought of this handshaking scheme. "

Old Chiswick foamed at the mouth. 

"So you have lied to me! You have deliberately deceived me as to yourfinancial status!"

"Poor old Bicky didn't want to go to that ranch, " I explained. "Hedoesn't like cows and horses, but he rather thinks he would be hotstuff among the hens. All he wants is a bit of capital. Don't you thinkit would be rather a wheeze if you were to----"

"After what has happened? After this--this deceit and foolery? Not apenny!"

"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 alittle ready money, and is at a loss to obtain it elsewhere, he mightsecure the sum he requires by describing the occurrences of thisafternoon for the Sunday issue of one of the more spirited andenterprising 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'tget the money any other way----"

"Wait! Er--wait, my boy! You are so impetuous! We might arrangesomething. "

"I won't go to that bally ranch. "

"No, no! No, no, my boy! I would not suggest it. I would not for amoment 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--Imight--in fact, I think I see my way to doing--to--I might be able toutilize 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, inEnglish political life the unpaid secretary is a recognized figure----"

"The only figure I'll recognize, " said Bicky firmly, "is five hundredquid a year, paid quarterly. "

"My dear boy!"

"Absolutely!"

"But your recompense, my dear Francis, would consist in the unrivalledopportunities you would have, as my secretary, to gain experience, toaccustom 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 henshas a dozen chickens. After a bit the chickens grow up and have a dozenchickens each themselves, and then they all start laying eggs! There'sa fortune in it. You can get anything you like for eggs in America. Chappies keep them on ice for years and years, and don't sell them tillthey fetch about a dollar a whirl. You don't think I'm going to chuck afuture 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 beresigned to it. "Very well, my boy, " he said. 

"What-o!" said Bicky. "All right, then. "

"Jeeves, " I said. Bicky had taken the old boy off to dinner tocelebrate, and we were alone. "Jeeves, this has been one of your bestefforts. "

"Thank you, sir. "

"It beats me how you do it. "

"Yes, sir. "

"The only trouble is you haven't got much out of it--what!"

"I fancy Mr. Bickersteth intends--I judge from his remarks--to signifyhis appreciation of anything I have been fortunate enough to do toassist him, at some later date when he is in a more favourable positionto 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 chappie'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, and poppedoff. 

ABSENT TREATMENT

I want to tell you all about dear old Bobbie Cardew. It's a mostinteresting story. I can't put in any literary style and all that; butI don't have to, don't you know, because it goes on its Moral Lesson. If you're a man you mustn't miss it, because it'll be a warning to you;and if you're a woman you won't want to, because it's all about how agirl made a man feel pretty well fed up with things. 

If you're a recent acquaintance of Bobbie's, you'll probably besurprised to hear that there was a time when he was more remarkable forthe weakness of his memory than anything else. Dozens of fellows, whohave only met Bobbie since the change took place, have been surprisedwhen I told them that. Yet it's true. Believe _me_. 

In the days when I first knew him Bobbie Cardew was about the mostpronounced young rotter inside the four-mile radius. People have calledme a silly ass, but I was never in the same class with Bobbie. When itcame to being a silly ass, he was a plus-four man, while my handicapwas about six. Why, if I wanted him to dine with me, I used to post hima letter at the beginning of the week, and then the day before send hima telegram and a phone-call on the day itself, and--half an hour beforethe time we'd fixed--a messenger in a taxi, whose business it was tosee that he got in and that the chauffeur had the address all correct. By doing this I generally managed to get him, unless he had left townbefore my messenger arrived. 

The funny thing was that he wasn't altogether a fool in other ways. Deep down in him there was a kind of stratum of sense. I had known him, once or twice, show an almost human intelligence. But to reach thatstratum, mind you, you needed dynamite. 

At least, that's what I thought. But there was another way which hadn'toccurred to me. Marriage, I mean. Marriage, the dynamite of the soul;that was what hit Bobbie. He married. Have you ever seen a bull-pupchasing a bee? The pup sees the bee. It looks good to him. But he stilldoesn't know what's at the end of it till he gets there. It was likethat with Bobbie. He fell in love, got married--with a sort of whoop, as if it were the greatest fun in the world--and then began to find outthings. 

She wasn't the sort of girl you would have expected Bobbie to raveabout. And yet, I don't know. What I mean is, she worked for herliving; and to a fellow who has never done a hand's turn in his lifethere's undoubtedly a sort of fascination, a kind of romance, about agirl who works for her living. 

Her name was Anthony. Mary Anthony. She was about five feet six; shehad a ton and a half of red-gold hair, grey eyes, and one of thosedetermined chins. She was a hospital nurse. When Bobbie smashed himselfup at polo, she was told off by the authorities to smooth his brow andrally round with cooling unguents and all that; and the old boy hadn'tbeen up and about again for more than a week before they popped off tothe registrar's and fixed it up. Quite the romance. 

Bobbie broke the news to me at the club one evening, and next day heintroduced me to her. I admired her. I've never worked myself--myname's Pepper, by the way. Almost forgot to mention it. Reggie Pepper. My uncle Edward was Pepper, Wells, and Co. , the Colliery people. Heleft me a sizable chunk of bullion--I say I've never worked myself, butI admire any one who earns a living under difficulties, especially agirl. And this girl had had a rather unusually tough time of it, beingan orphan and all that, and having had to do everything off her own batfor years. 

Mary and I got along together splendidly. We don't now, but we'll cometo that later. I'm speaking of the past. She seemed to think Bobbie thegreatest thing on earth, judging by the way she looked at him when shethought I wasn't noticing. And Bobbie seemed to think the same abouther. So that I came to the conclusion that, if only dear old Bobbiedidn't forget to go to the wedding, they had a sporting chance of beingquite happy. 

Well, let's brisk up a bit here, and jump a year. The story doesn'treally start till then. 

They took a flat and settled down. I was in and out of the place quitea good deal. I kept my eyes open, and everything seemed to me to berunning along as smoothly as you could want. If this was marriage, Ithought, I couldn't see why fellows were so frightened of it. Therewere a lot of worse things that could happen to a man. 

But we now come to the incident of the quiet Dinner, and it's just herethat love's young dream hits a snag, and things begin to occur. 

I happened to meet Bobbie in Piccadilly, and he asked me to come backto dinner at the flat. And, like a fool, instead of bolting and puttingmyself under police protection, I went. 

When we got to the flat, there was Mrs. Bobbie looking--well, I tellyou, it staggered me. Her gold hair was all piled up in waves andcrinkles and things, with a what-d'-you-call-it of diamonds in it. Andshe was wearing the most perfectly ripping dress. I couldn't begin todescribe it. I can only say it was the limit. It struck me that if thiswas how she was in the habit of looking every night when they weredining quietly at home together, it was no wonder that Bobbie likeddomesticity. 

"Here's old Reggie, dear, " said Bobbie. "I've brought him home to havea bit of dinner. I'll phone down to the kitchen and ask them to send itup now--what?"

She stared at him as if she had never seen him before. Then she turnedscarlet. Then she turned as white as a sheet. Then she gave a littlelaugh. It was most interesting to watch. Made me wish I was up a treeabout eight hundred miles away. Then she recovered herself. 

"I am so glad you were able to come, Mr. Pepper, " she said, smiling atme. 

And after that she was all right. At least, you would have said so. Shetalked a lot at dinner, and chaffed Bobbie, and played us ragtime onthe piano afterwards, as if she hadn't a care in the world. Quite a jollylittle party it was--not. I'm no lynx-eyed sleuth, and all that sort ofthing, but I had seen her face at the beginning, and I knew that she wasworking the whole time and working hard, to keep herself in hand, andthat she would have given that diamond what's-its-name in her hair andeverything else she possessed to have one good scream--just one. I'vesat through some pretty thick evenings in my time, but that one had therest beaten in a canter. At the very earliest moment I grabbed my hat andgot away. 

Having seen what I did, I wasn't particularly surprised to meet Bobbieat the club next day looking about as merry and bright as a lonelygum-drop at an Eskimo tea-party. 

He started in straightway. He seemed glad to have someone to talk toabout it. 

"Do you know how long I've been married?" he said. 

I didn't exactly. 

"About a year, isn't it?"

"Not _about_ a year, " he said sadly. "Exactly a year--yesterday!"

Then I understood. I saw light--a regular flash of light. 

"Yesterday was----?"

"The anniversary of the wedding. I'd arranged to take Mary to theSavoy, and on to Covent Garden. She particularly wanted to hear Caruso. I had the ticket for the box in my pocket. Do you know, all throughdinner I had a kind of rummy idea that there was something I'dforgotten, but I couldn't think what?"

"Till your wife mentioned it?"

He nodded----

"She--mentioned it, " he said thoughtfully. 

I didn't ask for details. Women with hair and chins like Mary's may beangels most of the time, but, when they take off their wings for a bit, they aren't half-hearted about it. 

"To be absolutely frank, old top, " said poor old Bobbie, in a brokensort of way, "my stock's pretty low at home. "

There didn't seem much to be done. I just lit a cigarette and satthere. He didn't want to talk. Presently he went out. I stood at thewindow of our upper smoking-room, which looks out on to Piccadilly, andwatched him. He walked slowly along for a few yards, stopped, thenwalked on again, and finally turned into a jeweller's. Which was aninstance of what I meant when I said that deep down in him there was acertain stratum of sense. 

 * * * * *

It was from now on that I began to be really interested in this problemof Bobbie's married life. Of course, one's always mildly interested inone's friends' marriages, hoping they'll turn out well and all that;but this was different. The average man isn't like Bobbie, and theaverage girl isn't like Mary. It was that old business of the immovablemass and the irresistible force. There was Bobbie, ambling gentlythrough life, a dear old chap in a hundred ways, but undoubtedly achump of the first water. 

And there was Mary, determined that he shouldn't be a chump. AndNature, mind you, on Bobbie's side. When Nature makes a chump likedear old Bobbie, she's proud of him, and doesn't want her handiworkdisturbed. She gives him a sort of natural armour to protect himagainst outside interference. And that armour is shortness of memory. Shortness of memory keeps a man a chump, when, but for it, he mightcease to be one. Take my case, for instance. I'm a chump. Well, if Ihad remembered half the things people have tried to teach me during mylife, my size in hats would be about number nine. But I didn't. Iforgot them. And it was just the same with Bobbie. 

For about a week, perhaps a bit more, the recollection of that quietlittle domestic evening bucked him up like a tonic. Elephants, I readsomewhere, are champions at the memory business, but they were fools toBobbie during that week. But, bless you, the shock wasn't nearly bigenough. It had dinted the armour, but it hadn't made a hole in it. Pretty soon he was back at the old game. 

It was pathetic, don't you know. The poor girl loved him, and she wasfrightened. It was the thin edge of the wedge, you see, and she knewit. A man who forgets what day he was married, when he's been marriedone year, will forget, at about the end of the fourth, that he'smarried at all. If she meant to get him in hand at all, she had got todo it now, before he began to drift away. 

I saw that clearly enough, and I tried to make Bobbie see it, when hewas by way of pouring out his troubles to me one afternoon. I can'tremember what it was that he had forgotten the day before, but it wassomething she had asked him to bring home for her--it may have been abook. 

"It's such a little thing to make a fuss about, " said Bobbie. "And sheknows that it's simply because I've got such an infernal memory abouteverything. I can't remember anything. Never could. "

He talked on for a while, and, just as he was going, he pulled out acouple of sovereigns. 

"Oh, by the way, " he said. 

"What's this for?" I asked, though I knew. 

"I owe it you. "

"How's that?" I said. 

"Why, that bet on Tuesday. In the billiard-room. Murray and Brown wereplaying a hundred up, and I gave you two to one that Brown would win, and Murray beat him by twenty odd. "

"So you do remember some things?" I said. 

He got quite excited. Said that if I thought he was the sort of rotterwho forgot to pay when he lost a bet, it was pretty rotten of me afterknowing him all these years, and a lot more like that. 

"Subside, laddie, " I said. 

Then I spoke to him like a father. 

"What you've got to do, my old college chum, " I said, "is to pullyourself together, and jolly quick, too. As things are shaping, you'redue for a nasty knock before you know what's hit you. You've got tomake an effort. Don't say you can't. This two quid business shows that, even if your memory is rocky, you can remember some things. What you'vegot to do is to see that wedding anniversaries and so on are includedin the list. It may be a brainstrain, but you can't get out of it. "

"I suppose you're right, " said Bobbie. "But it beats me why she thinkssuch a lot of these rotten little dates. What's it matter if I forgotwhat day we were married on or what day she was born on or what day thecat had the measles? She knows I love her just as much as if I were amemorizing freak at the halls. "

"That's not enough for a woman, " I said. "They want to be shown. Bearthat in mind, and you're all right. Forget it, and there'll betrouble. "

He chewed the knob of his stick. 

"Women are frightfully rummy, " he said gloomily. 

"You should have thought of that before you married one, " I said. 

 * * * * *

I don't see that I could have done any more. I had put the whole thingin a nutshell for him. You would have thought he'd have seen the point, and that it would have made him brace up and get a hold on himself. Butno. Off he went again in the same old way. I gave up arguing with him. I had a good deal of time on my hands, but not enough to amount toanything when it was a question of reforming dear old Bobbie by argument. If you see a man asking for trouble, and insisting on getting it, theonly thing to do is to stand by and wait till it comes to him. Afterthat you may get a chance. But till then there's nothing to be done. But I thought a lot about him. 

Bobbie didn't get into the soup all at once. Weeks went by, and months, and still nothing happened. Now and then he'd come into the club with akind of cloud on his shining morning face, and I'd know that there hadbeen doings in the home; but it wasn't till well on in the spring thathe got the thunderbolt just where he had been asking for it--in thethorax. 

I was smoking a quiet cigarette one morning in the window looking outover Piccadilly, and watching the buses and motors going up one way anddown the other--most interesting it is; I often do it--when in rushedBobbie, with his eyes bulging and his face the colour of an oyster, waving a piece of paper in his hand. 

"Reggie, " he said. "Reggie, old top, she's gone!"

"Gone!" I said. "Who?"

"Mary, of course! Gone! Left me! Gone!"

"Where?" I said. 

Silly question? Perhaps you're right. Anyhow, dear old Bobbie nearlyfoamed at the mouth. 

"Where? How should I know where? Here, read this. "

He pushed the paper into my hand. It was a letter. 

"Go on, " said Bobbie. "Read it. "

So I did. It certainly was quite a letter. There was not much of it, but it was all to the point. This is what it said:

 "MY DEAR BOBBIE, --I am going away. When you care enough about me to remember to wish me many happy returns on my birthday, I will come back. My address will be Box 341, _London Morning News_. "

I read it twice, then I said, "Well, why don't you?"

"Why don't I what?"

"Why don't you wish her many happy returns? It doesn't seem much toask. "

"But she says on her birthday. "

"Well, when is her birthday?"

"Can't you understand?" said Bobbie. "I've forgotten. "

"Forgotten!" I said. 

"Yes, " said Bobbie. "Forgotten. "

"How do you mean, forgotten?" I said. "Forgotten whether it's thetwentieth or the twenty-first, or what? How near do you get to it?"

"I know it came somewhere between the first of January and thethirty-first of December. That's how near I get to it. "

"Think. "

"Think? What's the use of saying 'Think'? Think I haven't thought? I'vebeen knocking sparks out of my brain ever since I opened that letter. "

"And you can't remember?"

"No. "

I rang the bell and ordered restoratives. 

"Well, Bobbie, " I said, "it's a pretty hard case to spring on anuntrained amateur like me. Suppose someone had come to Sherlock Holmesand said, 'Mr. Holmes, here's a case for you. When is my wife'sbirthday?' Wouldn't that have given Sherlock a jolt? However, I knowenough about the game to understand that a fellow can't shoot off hisdeductive theories unless you start him with a clue, so rouse yourselfout of that pop-eyed trance and come across with two or three. Forinstance, can't you remember the last time she had a birthday? Whatsort of weather was it? That might fix the month. "

Bobbie shook his head. 

"It was just ordinary weather, as near as I can recollect. "

"Warm?"

"Warmish. "

"Or cold?"

"Well, fairly cold, perhaps. I can't remember. "

I ordered two more of the same. They seemed indicated in the YoungDetective's Manual. "You're a great help, Bobbie, " I said. "Aninvaluable assistant. One of those indispensable adjuncts withoutwhich no home is complete. "

Bobbie seemed to be thinking. 

"I've got it, " he said suddenly. "Look here. I gave her a present onher last birthday. All we have to do is to go to the shop, hunt up thedate when it was bought, and the thing's done. "

"Absolutely. What did you give her?"

He sagged. 

"I can't remember, " he said. 

Getting ideas is like golf. Some days you're right off, others it'sas easy as falling off a log. I don't suppose dear old Bobbie had everhad two ideas in the same morning before in his life; but now he didit without an effort. He just loosed another dry Martini into theundergrowth, and before you could turn round it had flushed quite abrain-wave. 

Do you know those little books called _When were you Born_?There's one for each month. They tell you your character, your talents, your strong points, and your weak points at fourpence halfpenny a go. Bobbie's idea was to buy the whole twelve, and go through them till wefound out which month hit off Mary's character. That would give us themonth, and narrow it down a whole lot. 

A pretty hot idea for a non-thinker like dear old Bobbie. We salliedout at once. He took half and I took half, and we settled down to work. As I say, it sounded good. But when we came to go into the thing, wesaw that there was a flaw. There was plenty of information all right, but there wasn't a single month that didn't have something that exactlyhit off Mary. For instance, in the December book it said, "Decemberpeople are apt to keep their own secrets. They are extensive travellers. "Well, Mary had certainly kept her secret, and she had travelled quiteextensively enough for Bobbie's needs. Then, October people were "bornwith original ideas" and "loved moving. " You couldn't have summedup Mary's little jaunt more neatly. February people had "wonderfulmemories"--Mary's speciality. 

We took a bit of a rest, then had another go at the thing. 

Bobbie was all for May, because the book said that women born in thatmonth were "inclined to be capricious, which is always a barrier to ahappy married life"; but I plumped for February, because February women"are unusually determined to have their own way, are very earnest, andexpect a full return in their companion or mates. " Which he owned wasabout as like Mary as anything could be. 

In the end he tore the books up, stamped on them, burnt them, and wenthome. 

It was wonderful what a change the next few days made in dear oldBobbie. Have you ever seen that picture, "The Soul's Awakening"? Itrepresents a flapper of sorts gazing in a startled sort of way into themiddle distance with a look in her eyes that seems to say, "Surely thatis George's step I hear on the mat! Can this be love?" Well, Bobbie hada soul's awakening too. I don't suppose he had ever troubled to thinkin his life before--not really _think_. But now he was wearing hisbrain to the bone. It was painful in a way, of course, to see a fellowhuman being so thoroughly in the soup, but I felt strongly that it wasall for the best. I could see as plainly as possible that all thesebrainstorms were improving Bobbie out of knowledge. When it was allover he might possibly become a rotter again of a sort, but it wouldonly be a pale reflection of the rotter he had been. It bore out theidea I had always had that what he needed was a real good jolt. 

I saw a great deal of him these days. I was his best friend, and hecame to me for sympathy. I gave it him, too, with both hands, but Inever failed to hand him the Moral Lesson when I had him weak. 

One day he came to me as I was sitting in the club, and I could seethat he had had an idea. He looked happier than he had done in weeks. 

"Reggie, " he said, "I'm on the trail. This time I'm convinced that Ishall pull it off. I've remembered something of vital importance. "

"Yes?" I said. 

"I remember distinctly, " he said, "that on Mary's last birthday we wenttogether to the Coliseum. How does that hit you?"

"It's a fine bit of memorizing, " I said; "but how does it help?"

"Why, they change the programme every week there. "

"Ah!" I said. "Now you are talking. "

"And the week we went one of the turns was Professor Some One'sTerpsichorean Cats. I recollect them distinctly. Now, are we narrowingit down, or aren't we? Reggie, I'm going round to the Coliseum thisminute, and I'm going to dig the date of those Terpsichorean Cats outof them, if I have to use a crowbar. "

So that got him within six days; for the management treated us likebrothers; brought out the archives, and ran agile fingers over thepages till they treed the cats in the middle of May. 

"I told you it was May, " said Bobbie. "Maybe you'll listen to meanother time. "

"If you've any sense, " I said, "there won't be another time. "

And Bobbie said that there wouldn't. 

Once you get your money on the run, it parts as if it enjoyed doing it. I had just got off to sleep that night when my telephone-bell rang. Itwas Bobbie, of course. He didn't apologize. 

"Reggie, " he said, "I've got it now for certain. It's just come to me. We saw those Terpsichorean Cats at a matinee, old man. "

"Yes?" I said. 

"Well, don't you see that that brings it down to two days? It must havebeen either Wednesday the seventh or Saturday the tenth. "

"Yes, " I said, "if they didn't have daily matinees at the Coliseum. "

I heard him give a sort of howl. 

"Bobbie, " I said. My feet were freezing, but I was fond of him. 

"Well?"

"I've remembered something too. It's this. The day you went to theColiseum I lunched with you both at the Ritz. You had forgotten tobring any money with you, so you wrote a cheque. "

"But I'm always writing cheques. "

"You are. But this was for a tenner, and made out to the hotel. Hunt upyour cheque-book and see how many cheques for ten pounds payable to theRitz Hotel you wrote out between May the fifth and May the tenth. "

He gave a kind of gulp. 

"Reggie, " he said, "you're a genius. I've always said so. I believeyou've got it. Hold the line. "

Presently he came back again. 

"Halloa!" he said. 

"I'm here, " I said. 

"It was the eighth. Reggie, old man, I----"

"Topping, " I said. "Good night. "

It was working along into the small hours now, but I thought I might aswell make a night of it and finish the thing up, so I rang up an hotelnear the Strand. 

"Put me through to Mrs. Cardew, " I said. 

"It's late, " said the man at the other end. 

"And getting later every minute, " I said. "Buck along, laddie. "

I waited patiently. I had missed my beauty-sleep, and my feet hadfrozen hard, but I was past regrets. 

"What is the matter?" said Mary's voice. 

"My feet are cold, " I said. "But I didn't call you up to tell you thatparticularly. I've just been chatting with Bobbie, Mrs. Cardew. "

"Oh! is that Mr. Pepper?"

"Yes. He's remembered it, Mrs. Cardew. "

She gave a sort of scream. I've often thought how interesting it mustbe to be one of those Exchange girls. The things they must hear, don'tyou know. Bobbie's howl and gulp and Mrs. Bobbie's scream and all aboutmy feet and all that. Most interesting it must be. 

"He's remembered it!" she gasped. "Did you tell him?"

"No. "

Well, I hadn't. 

"Mr. Pepper. "

"Yes?"

"Was he--has he been--was he very worried?"

I chuckled. This was where I was billed to be the life and soul of theparty. 

"Worried! He was about the most worried man between here and Edinburgh. He has been worrying as if he was paid to do it by the nation. He hasstarted out to worry after breakfast, and----"

Oh, well, you can never tell with women. My idea was that we shouldpass the rest of the night slapping each other on the back across thewire, and telling each other what bally brainy conspirators we were, don't you know, and all that. But I'd got just as far as this, when shebit at me. Absolutely! I heard the snap. And then she said "Oh!" inthat choked kind of way. And when a woman says "Oh!" like that, itmeans all the bad words she'd love to say if she only knew them. 

And then she began. 

"What brutes men are! What horrid brutes! How you could stand by andsee poor dear Bobbie worrying himself into a fever, when a word fromyou would have put everything right, I can't----"

"But----"

"And you call yourself his friend! His friend!" (Metallic laugh, mostunpleasant. ) "It shows how one can be deceived. I used to think you akind-hearted man. "

"But, I say, when I suggested the thing, you thought it perfectly----"

"I thought it hateful, abominable. "

"But you said it was absolutely top----"

"I said nothing of the kind. And if I did, I didn't mean it. I don'twish to be unjust, Mr. Pepper, but I must say that to me there seems tobe something positively fiendish in a man who can go out of his way toseparate a husband from his wife, simply in order to amuse himself bygloating over his agony----"

"But----!"

"When one single word would have----"

"But you made me promise not to----" I bleated. 

"And if I did, do you suppose I didn't expect you to have the sense tobreak your promise?"

I had finished. I had no further observations to make. I hung up thereceiver, and crawled into bed. 

 * * * * *

I still see Bobbie when he comes to the club, but I do not visitthe old homestead. He is friendly, but he stops short of issuinginvitations. I ran across Mary at the Academy last week, and her eyeswent through me like a couple of bullets through a pat of butter. Andas they came out the other side, and I limped off to piece myselftogether again, there occurred to me the simple epitaph which, when Iam no more, I intend to have inscribed on my tombstone. It was this:"He was a man who acted from the best motives. There is one born everyminute. "

HELPING FREDDIE

I don't want to bore you, don't you know, and all that sort of rot, butI must tell you about dear old Freddie Meadowes. I'm not a flier atliterary style, and all that, but I'll get some writer chappie to givethe thing a wash and brush up when I've finished, so that'll be allright. 

Dear old Freddie, don't you know, has been a dear old pal of mine foryears and years; so when I went into the club one morning and found himsitting alone in a dark corner, staring glassily at nothing, andgenerally looking like the last rose of summer, you can understand Iwas quite disturbed about it. As a rule, the old rotter is the life andsoul of our set. Quite the little lump of fun, and all that sort ofthing. 

Jimmy Pinkerton was with me at the time. Jimmy's a fellow who writesplays--a deuced brainy sort of fellow--and between us we set to work toquestion the poor pop-eyed chappie, until finally we got at what thematter was. 

As we might have guessed, it was a girl. He had had a quarrel withAngela West, the girl he was engaged to, and she had broken off theengagement. What the row had been about he didn't say, but apparentlyshe was pretty well fed up. She wouldn't let him come near her, refusedto talk on the phone, and sent back his letters unopened. 

I was sorry for poor old Freddie. I knew what it felt like. I was oncein love myself with a girl called Elizabeth Shoolbred, and the factthat she couldn't stand me at any price will be recorded in myautobiography. I knew the thing for Freddie. 

"Change of scene is what you want, old scout, " I said. "Come with me toMarvis Bay. I've taken a cottage there. Jimmy's coming down on thetwenty-fourth. We'll be a cosy party. "

"He's absolutely right, " said Jimmy. "Change of scene's the thing. Iknew a man. Girl refused him. Man went abroad. Two months later girlwired him, 'Come back. Muriel. ' Man started to write out a reply;suddenly found that he couldn't remember girl's surname; so neveranswered at all. "

But Freddie wouldn't be comforted. He just went on looking as if he hadswallowed his last sixpence. However, I got him to promise to come toMarvis Bay with me. He said he might as well be there as anywhere. 

Do you know Marvis Bay? It's in Dorsetshire. It isn't what you'd call afiercely exciting spot, but it has its good points. You spend the daythere bathing and sitting on the sands, and in the evening you strollout on the shore with the gnats. At nine o'clock you rub ointment onthe wounds and go to bed. 

It seemed to suit poor old Freddie. Once the moon was up and the breezesighing in the trees, you couldn't drag him from that beach with arope. He became quite a popular pet with the gnats. They'd hang roundwaiting for him to come out, and would give perfectly good strollersthe miss-in-baulk just so as to be in good condition for him. 

Yes, it was a peaceful sort of life, but by the end of the first week Ibegan to wish that Jimmy Pinkerton had arranged to come down earlier:for as a companion Freddie, poor old chap, wasn't anything to writehome to mother about. When he wasn't chewing a pipe and scowling at thecarpet, he was sitting at the piano, playing "The Rosary" with onefinger. He couldn't play anything except "The Rosary, " and he couldn'tplay much of that. Somewhere round about the third bar a fuse wouldblow out, and he'd have to start all over again. 

He was playing it as usual one morning when I came in from bathing. 

"Reggie, " he said, in a hollow voice, looking up, "I've seen her. "

"Seen her?" I said. "What, Miss West?"

"I was down at the post office, getting the letters, and we met in thedoorway. She cut me!"

He started "The Rosary" again, and side-slipped in the second bar. 

"Reggie, " he said, "you ought never to have brought me here. I must goaway. "

"Go away?" I said. "Don't talk such rot. This is the best thing thatcould have happened. This is where you come out strong. "

"She cut me. "

"Never mind. Be a sportsman. Have another dash at her. "

"She looked clean through me!"

"Of course she did. But don't mind that. Put this thing in my hands. I'll see you through. Now, what you want, " I said, "is to place herunder some obligation to you. What you want is to get her timidlythanking you. What you want----"

"But what's she going to thank me timidly for?"

I thought for a moment. 

"Look out for a chance and save her from drowning, " I said. 

"I can't swim, " said Freddie. 

That was Freddie all over, don't you know. A dear old chap in athousand ways, but no help to a fellow, if you know what I mean. 

He cranked up the piano once more and I sprinted for the open. 

I strolled out on to the sands and began to think this thing over. There was no doubt that the brain-work had got to be done by me. Dearold Freddie had his strong qualities. He was top-hole at polo, and inhappier days I've heard him give an imitation of cats fighting in abackyard that would have surprised you. But apart from that he wasn't aman of enterprise. 

Well, don't you know, I was rounding some rocks, with my brain whirringlike a dynamo, when I caught sight of a blue dress, and, by Jove, itwas the girl. I had never met her, but Freddie had sixteen photographsof her sprinkled round his bedroom, and I knew I couldn't be mistaken. She was sitting on the sand, helping a small, fat child build a castle. On a chair close by was an elderly lady reading a novel. I heard thegirl call her "aunt. " So, doing the Sherlock Holmes business, I deducedthat the fat child was her cousin. It struck me that if Freddie hadbeen there he would probably have tried to work up some sentiment aboutthe kid on the strength of it. Personally I couldn't manage it. I don'tthink I ever saw a child who made me feel less sentimental. He was oneof those round, bulging kids. 

After he had finished the castle he seemed to get bored with life, andbegan to whimper. The girl took him off to where a fellow was sellingsweets at a stall. And I walked on. 

Now, fellows, if you ask them, will tell you that I'm a chump. Well, Idon't mind. I admit it. I _am_ a chump. All the Peppers have beenchumps. But what I do say is that every now and then, when you'd leastexpect it, I get a pretty hot brain-wave; and that's what happened now. I doubt if the idea that came to me then would have occurred to asingle one of any dozen of the brainiest chappies you care to name. 

It came to me on my return journey. I was walking back along the shore, when I saw the fat kid meditatively smacking a jelly-fish with a spade. The girl wasn't with him. In fact, there didn't seem to be any one insight. I was just going to pass on when I got the brain-wave. I thoughtthe whole thing out in a flash, don't you know. From what I had seen ofthe two, the girl was evidently fond of this kid, and, anyhow, he washer cousin, so what I said to myself was this: If I kidnap this youngheavy-weight for the moment, and if, when the girl has got frightfullyanxious about where he can have got to, dear old Freddie suddenlyappears leading the infant by the hand and telling a story to theeffect that he has found him wandering at large about the country andpractically saved his life, why, the girl's gratitude is bound to makeher chuck hostilities and be friends again. So I gathered in the kidand made off with him. All the way home I pictured that scene ofreconciliation. I could see it so vividly, don't you know, that, byGeorge, it gave me quite a choky feeling in my throat. 

Freddie, dear old chap, was rather slow at getting on to the finepoints of the idea. When I appeared, carrying the kid, and dumped himdown in our sitting-room, he didn't absolutely effervesce with joy, ifyou know what I mean. The kid had started to bellow by this time, andpoor old Freddie seemed to find it rather trying. 

"Stop it!" he said. "Do you think nobody's got any troubles except you?What the deuce is all this, Reggie?"

The kid came back at him with a yell that made the window rattle. Iraced to the kitchen and fetched a jar of honey. It was the rightstuff. The kid stopped bellowing and began to smear his face with thestuff. 

"Well?" said Freddie, when silence had set in. I explained the idea. After a while it began to strike him. 

"You're not such a fool as you look, sometimes, Reggie, " he saidhandsomely. "I'm bound to say this seems pretty good. "

And he disentangled the kid from the honey-jar and took him out, toscour the beach for Angela. 

I don't know when I've felt so happy. I was so fond of dear old Freddiethat to know that he was soon going to be his old bright self againmade me feel as if somebody had left me about a million pounds. I wasleaning back in a chair on the veranda, smoking peacefully, when downthe road I saw the old boy returning, and, by George, the kid was stillwith him. And Freddie looked as if he hadn't a friend in the world. 

"Hello!" I said. "Couldn't you find her?"

"Yes, I found her, " he replied, with one of those bitter, hollowlaughs. 

"Well, then----?"

Freddie sank into a chair and groaned. 

"This isn't her cousin, you idiot!" he said. 

"He's no relation at all. He's just a kid she happened to meet on thebeach. She had never seen him before in her life. "

"What! Who is he, then?"

"I don't know. Oh, Lord, I've had a time! Thank goodness you'llprobably spend the next few years of your life in Dartmoor forkidnapping. That's my only consolation. I'll come and jeer at youthrough the bars. "

"Tell me all, old boy, " I said. 

It took him a good long time to tell the story, for he broke off in themiddle of nearly every sentence to call me names, but I gatheredgradually what had happened. She had listened like an iceberg while hetold the story he had prepared, and then--well, she didn't actuallycall him a liar, but she gave him to understand in a general sort ofway that if he and Dr. Cook ever happened to meet, and started swappingstories, it would be about the biggest duel on record. And then he hadcrawled away with the kid, licked to a splinter. 

"And mind, this is your affair, " he concluded. "I'm not mixed up in itat all. If you want to escape your sentence, you'd better go and findthe kid's parents and return him before the police come for you. "

 * * * * *

By Jove, you know, till I started to tramp the place with this infernalkid, I never had a notion it would have been so deuced difficult torestore a child to its anxious parents. It's a mystery to me howkidnappers ever get caught. I searched Marvis Bay like a bloodhound, but nobody came forward to claim the infant. You'd have thought, fromthe lack of interest in him, that he was stopping there all by himselfin a cottage of his own. It wasn't till, by an inspiration, I thoughtto ask the sweet-stall man that I found out that his name was Medwin, and that his parents lived at a place called Ocean Rest, in Beach Road. 

I shot off there like an arrow and knocked at the door. Nobodyanswered. I knocked again. I could hear movements inside, but nobodycame. I was just going to get to work on that knocker in such a waythat the idea would filter through into these people's heads that Iwasn't standing there just for the fun of the thing, when a voice fromsomewhere above shouted, "Hi!"

I looked up and saw a round, pink face, with grey whiskers east andwest of it, staring down from an upper window. 

"Hi!" it shouted again. 

"What the deuce do you mean by 'Hi'?" I said. 

"You can't come in, " said the face. "Hello, is that Tootles?"

"My name is not Tootles, and I don't want to come in, " I said. "Are youMr. Medwin? I've brought back your son. "

"I see him. Peep-bo, Tootles! Dadda can see 'oo!"

The face disappeared with a jerk. I could hear voices. The facereappeared. 

"Hi!"

I churned the gravel madly. 

"Do you live here?" said the face. 

"I'm staying here for a few weeks. "

"What's your name?"

"Pepper. But----"

"Pepper? Any relation to Edward Pepper, the colliery owner?"

"My uncle. But----"

"I used to know him well. Dear old Edward Pepper! I wish I was with himnow. "

"I wish you were, " I said. 

He beamed down at me. 

"This is most fortunate, " he said. "We were wondering what we were todo with Tootles. You see, we have the mumps here. My daughter Bootleshas just developed mumps. Tootles must not be exposed to the risk ofinfection. We could not think what we were to do with him. It was mostfortunate your finding him. He strayed from his nurse. I would hesitateto trust him to the care of a stranger, but you are different. Anynephew of Edward Pepper's has my implicit confidence. You must takeTootles to your house. It will be an ideal arrangement. I have writtento my brother in London to come and fetch him. He may be here in a fewdays. "

"May!"

"He is a busy man, of course; but he should certainly be here within aweek. Till then Tootles can stop with you. It is an excellent plan. Very much obliged to you. Your wife will like Tootles. "

"I haven't got a wife, " I yelled; but the window had closed with abang, as if the man with the whiskers had found a germ trying toescape, don't you know, and had headed it off just in time. 

I breathed a deep breath and wiped my forehead. 

The window flew up again. 

"Hi!"

A package weighing about a ton hit me on the head and burst like abomb. 

"Did you catch it?" said the face, reappearing. "Dear me, you missedit! Never mind. You can get it at the grocer's. Ask for Bailey'sGranulated Breakfast Chips. Tootles takes them for breakfast with alittle milk. Be certain to get Bailey's. "

My spirit was broken, if you know what I mean. I accepted the situation. Taking Tootles by the hand, I walked slowly away. Napoleon's retreatfrom Moscow was a picnic by the side of it. 

As we turned up the road we met Freddie's Angela. 

The sight of her had a marked effect on the kid Tootles. He pointed ather and said, "Wah!"

The girl stopped and smiled. I loosed the kid, and he ran to her. 

"Well, baby?" she said, bending down to him. "So father found youagain, did he? Your little son and I made friends on the beach thismorning, " she said to me. 

This was the limit. Coming on top of that interview with the whiskeredlunatic it so utterly unnerved me, don't you know, that she had noddedgood-bye and was half-way down the road before I caught up with mybreath enough to deny the charge of being the infant's father. 

I hadn't expected dear old Freddie to sing with joy when he found outwhat had happened, but I did think he might have shown a little moremanly fortitude. He leaped up, glared at the kid, and clutched hishead. He didn't speak for a long time, but, on the other hand, when hebegan he did not leave off for a long time. He was quite emotional, dear old boy. It beat me where he could have picked up suchexpressions. 

"Well, " he said, when he had finished, "say something! Heavens! man, why don't you say something?"

"You don't give me a chance, old top, " I said soothingly. 

"What are you going to do about it?"

"What can we do about it?"

"We can't spend our time acting as nurses to this--this exhibit. "

He got up. 

"I'm going back to London, " he said. 

"Freddie!" I cried. "Freddie, old man!" My voice shook. "Would youdesert a pal at a time like this?"

"I would. This is your business, and you've got to manage it. "

"Freddie, " I said, "you've got to stand by me. You must. Do you realizethat this child has to be undressed, and bathed, and dressed again? Youwouldn't leave me to do all that single-handed? Freddie, old scout, wewere at school together. Your mother likes me. You owe me a tenner. "

He sat down again. 

"Oh, well, " he said resignedly. 

"Besides, old top, " I said, "I did it all for your sake, don't youknow?"

He looked at me in a curious way. 

"Reggie, " he said, in a strained voice, "one moment. I'll stand a gooddeal, but I won't stand for being expected to be grateful. "

Looking back at it, I see that what saved me from Colney Hatch in thatcrisis was my bright idea of buying up most of the contents of thelocal sweet-shop. By serving out sweets to the kid practicallyincessantly we managed to get through the rest of that day prettysatisfactorily. At eight o'clock he fell asleep in a chair, and, havingundressed him by unbuttoning every button in sight and, where therewere no buttons, pulling till something gave, we carried him up to bed. 

Freddie stood looking at the pile of clothes on the floor and I knewwhat he was thinking. To get the kid undressed had been simple--a merematter of muscle. But how were we to get him into his clothes again? Istirred the pile with my foot. There was a long linen arrangement whichmight have been anything. Also a strip of pink flannel which was likenothing on earth. We looked at each other and smiled wanly. 

But in the morning I remembered that there were children at the nextbungalow but one. We went there before breakfast and borrowed theirnurse. Women are wonderful, by George they are! She had that kiddressed and looking fit for anything in about eight minutes. I showeredwealth on her, and she promised to come in morning and evening. I satdown to breakfast almost cheerful again. It was the first bit of silverlining there had been to the cloud up to date. 

"And after all, " I said, "there's lots to be said for having achild about the house, if you know what I mean. Kind of cosy anddomestic--what!"

Just then the kid upset the milk over Freddie's trousers, and when hehad come back after changing his clothes he began to talk about what amuch-maligned man King Herod was. The more he saw of Tootles, he said, the less he wondered at those impulsive views of his on infanticide. 

Two days later Jimmy Pinkerton came down. Jimmy took one look at thekid, who happened to be howling at the moment, and picked up hisportmanteau. 

"For me, " he said, "the hotel. I can't write dialogue with that sort ofthing going on. Whose work is this? Which of you adopted this littletreasure?"

I told him about Mr. Medwin and the mumps. Jimmy seemed interested. 

"I might work this up for the stage, " he said. "It wouldn't make a badsituation for act two of a farce. "

"Farce!" snarled poor old Freddie. 

"Rather. Curtain of act one on hero, a well-meaning, half-baked sort ofidiot just like--that is to say, a well-meaning, half-baked sort ofidiot, kidnapping the child. Second act, his adventures with it. I'llrough it out to-night. Come along and show me the hotel, Reggie. "

As we went I told him the rest of the story--the Angela part. He laiddown his portmanteau and looked at me like an owl through his glasses. 

"What!" he said. "Why, hang it, this is a play, ready-made. It's theold 'Tiny Hand' business. Always safe stuff. Parted lovers. Lispingchild. Reconciliation over the little cradle. It's big. Child, centre. Girl L. C. ; Freddie, up stage, by the piano. Can Freddie play thepiano?"

"He can play a little of 'The Rosary' with one finger. "

Jimmy shook his head. 

"No; we shall have to cut out the soft music. But the rest's all right. Look here. " He squatted in the sand. "This stone is the girl. This bitof seaweed's the child. This nutshell is Freddie. Dialogue leading upto child's line. Child speaks like, 'Boofer lady, does 'oo love dadda?'Business of outstretched hands. Hold picture for a moment. Freddie crossesL. , takes girl's hand. Business of swallowing lump in throat. Then bigspeech. 'Ah, Marie, ' or whatever her name is--Jane--Agnes--Angela? Verywell. 'Ah, Angela, has not this gone on too long? A little child rebukesus! Angela!' And so on. Freddie must work up his own part. I'm justgiving you the general outline. And we must get a good line for thechild. 'Boofer lady, does 'oo love dadda?' isn't definite enough. Wewant something more--ah! 'Kiss Freddie, ' that's it. Short, crisp, andhas the punch. "

"But, Jimmy, old top, " I said, "the only objection is, don't you know, that there's no way of getting the girl to the cottage. She cutsFreddie. She wouldn't come within a mile of him. "

Jimmy frowned. 

"That's awkward, " he said. "Well, we shall have to make it an exterior setinstead of an interior. We can easily corner her on the beach somewhere, when we're ready. Meanwhile, we must get the kid letter-perfect. Firstrehearsal for lines and business eleven sharp to-morrow. "

Poor old Freddie was in such a gloomy state of mind that we decided notto tell him the idea till we had finished coaching the kid. He wasn'tin the mood to have a thing like that hanging over him. So weconcentrated on Tootles. And pretty early in the proceedings we sawthat the only way to get Tootles worked up to the spirit of the thingwas to introduce sweets of some sort as a sub-motive, so to speak. 

"The chief difficulty, " said Jimmy Pinkerton at the end of the firstrehearsal, "is to establish a connection in the kid's mind between hisline and the sweets. Once he has grasped the basic fact that those twowords, clearly spoken, result automatically in acid-drops, we have gota success. "

I've often thought, don't you know, how interesting it must be to beone of those animal-trainer Johnnies: to stimulate the dawningintelligence, and that sort of thing. Well, this was every bit asexciting. Some days success seemed to be staring us in the eye, and thekid got the line out as if he'd been an old professional. And then he'dgo all to pieces again. And time was flying. 

"We must hurry up, Jimmy, " I said. "The kid's uncle may arrive any daynow and take him away. "

"And we haven't an understudy, " said Jimmy. "There's something in that. We must work! My goodness, that kid's a bad study. I've known deaf-muteswho would have learned the part quicker. "

I will say this for the kid, though: he was a trier. Failure didn'tdiscourage him. Whenever there was any kind of sweet near he had a dashat his line, and kept on saying something till he got what he wasafter. His only fault was his uncertainty. Personally, I would havebeen prepared to risk it, and start the performance at the firstopportunity, but Jimmy said no. 

"We're not nearly ready, " said Jimmy. "To-day, for instance, he said'Kick Freddie. ' That's not going to win any girl's heart. And she mightdo it, too. No; we must postpone production awhile yet. "

But, by George, we didn't. The curtain went up the very next afternoon. 

It was nobody's fault--certainly not mine. It was just Fate. Freddiehad settled down at the piano, and I was leading the kid out of thehouse to exercise it, when, just as we'd got out to the veranda, alongcame the girl Angela on her way to the beach. The kid set up his usualyell at the sight of her, and she stopped at the foot of the steps. 

"Hello, baby!" she said. "Good morning, " she said to me. "May I comeup?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She just came. She seemed to be thatsort of girl. She came up on the veranda and started fussing over thekid. And six feet away, mind you, Freddie smiting the piano in thesitting-room. It was a dash disturbing situation, don't you know. Atany minute Freddie might take it into his head to come out on to theveranda, and we hadn't even begun to rehearse him in his part. 

I tried to break up the scene. 

"We were just going down to the beach, " I said. 

"Yes?" said the girl. She listened for a moment. "So you're having yourpiano tuned?" she said. "My aunt has been trying to find a tuner forours. Do you mind if I go in and tell this man to come on to us whenhe's finished here?"

"Er--not yet!" I said. "Not yet, if you don't mind. He can't bear to bedisturbed when he's working. It's the artistic temperament. I'll tellhim later. "

"Very well, " she said, getting up to go. "Ask him to call at PineBungalow. West is the name. Oh, he seems to have stopped. I suppose hewill be out in a minute now. I'll wait. "

"Don't you think--shouldn't we be going on to the beach?" I said. 

She had started talking to the kid and didn't hear. She was feeling inher pocket for something. 

"The beach, " I babbled. 

"See what I've brought for you, baby, " she said. And, by George, don'tyou know, she held up in front of the kid's bulging eyes a chunk oftoffee about the size of the Automobile Club. 

That finished it. We had just been having a long rehearsal, and the kidwas all worked up in his part. He got it right first time. 

"Kiss Fweddie!" he shouted. 

And the front door opened, and Freddie came out on to the veranda, forall the world as if he had been taking a cue. 

He looked at the girl, and the girl looked at him. I looked at theground, and the kid looked at the toffee. 

"Kiss Fweddie!" he yelled. "Kiss Fweddie!"

The girl was still holding up the toffee, and the kid did what JimmyPinkerton would have called "business of outstretched hands" towardsit. 

"Kiss Fweddie!" he shrieked. 

"What does this mean?" said the girl, turning to me. 

"You'd better give it to him, don't you know, " I said. "He'll go ontill you do. "

She gave the kid his toffee, and he subsided. Poor old Freddie stillstood there gaping, without a word. 

"What does it mean?" said the girl again. Her face was pink, and hereyes were sparkling in the sort of way, don't you know, that makes afellow feel as if he hadn't any bones in him, if you know what I mean. Did you ever tread on your partner's dress at a dance and tear it, andsee her smile at you like an angel and say: "_Please_ don't apologize. It's nothing, " and then suddenly meet her clear blue eyes and feel asif you had stepped on the teeth of a rake and had the handle jump upand hit you in the face? Well, that's how Freddie's Angela looked. 

"_Well?_" she said, and her teeth gave a little click. 

I gulped. Then I said it was nothing. Then I said it was nothing much. Then I said, "Oh, well, it was this way. " And, after a few briefremarks about Jimmy Pinkerton, I told her all about it. And all thewhile Idiot Freddie stood there gaping, without a word. 

And the girl didn't speak, either. She just stood listening. 

And then she began to laugh. I never heard a girl laugh so much. Sheleaned against the side of the veranda and shrieked. And all the whileFreddie, the World's Champion Chump, stood there, saying nothing. 

Well I sidled towards the steps. I had said all I had to say, and itseemed to me that about here the stage-direction "exit" was written inmy part. I gave poor old Freddie up in despair. If only he had said aword, it might have been all right. But there he stood, speechless. What can a fellow do with a fellow like that?

Just out of sight of the house I met Jimmy Pinkerton. 

"Hello, Reggie!" he said. "I was just coming to you. Where's the kid?We must have a big rehearsal to-day. "

"No good, " I said sadly. "It's all over. The thing's finished. Poordear old Freddie has made an ass of himself and killed the whole show. "

"Tell me, " said Jimmy. 

I told him. 

"Fluffed in his lines, did he?" said Jimmy, nodding thoughtfully. "It'salways the way with these amateurs. We must go back at once. Thingslook bad, but it may not be too late, " he said as we started. "Even nowa few well-chosen words from a man of the world, and----"

"Great Scot!" I cried. "Look!"

In front of the cottage stood six children, a nurse, and the fellowfrom the grocer's staring. From the windows of the houses oppositeprojected about four hundred heads of both sexes, staring. Down theroad came galloping five more children, a dog, three men, and a boy, about to stare. And on our porch, as unconscious of the spectators asif they had been alone in the Sahara, stood Freddie and Angela, claspedin each other's arms. 

 * * * * *

Dear old Freddie may have been fluffy in his lines, but, by George, hisbusiness had certainly gone with a bang!

RALLYING ROUND OLD GEORGE

I think one of the rummiest affairs I was ever mixed up with, in thecourse of a lifetime devoted to butting into other people's business, was that affair of George Lattaker at Monte Carlo. I wouldn't bore you, don't you know, for the world, but I think you ought to hear about it. 

We had come to Monte Carlo on the yacht _Circe_, belonging to anold sportsman of the name of Marshall. Among those present were myself, my man Voules, a Mrs. Vanderley, her daughter Stella, Mrs. Vanderley'smaid Pilbeam and George. 

George was a dear old pal of mine. In fact, it was I who had worked himinto the party. You see, George was due to meet his Uncle Augustus, whowas scheduled, George having just reached his twenty-fifth birthday, tohand over to him a legacy left by one of George's aunts, for which hehad been trustee. The aunt had died when George was quite a kid. It wasa date that George had been looking forward to; for, though he had asort of income--an income, after-all, is only an income, whereas achunk of o' goblins is a pile. George's uncle was in Monte Carlo, andhad written George that he would come to London and unbelt; but itstruck me that a far better plan was for George to go to his uncle atMonte Carlo instead. Kill two birds with one stone, don't you know. Fixup his affairs and have a pleasant holiday simultaneously. So Georgehad tagged along, and at the time when the trouble started we wereanchored in Monaco Harbour, and Uncle Augustus was due next day. 

 * * * * *

Looking back, I may say that, so far as I was mixed up in it, thething began at seven o'clock in the morning, when I was aroused froma dreamless sleep by the dickens of a scrap in progress outside mystate-room door. The chief ingredients were a female voice that sobbedand said: "Oh, Harold!" and a male voice "raised in anger, " as they say, which after considerable difficulty, I identified as Voules's. I hardlyrecognized it. In his official capacity Voules talks exactly like you'dexpect a statue to talk, if it could. In private, however, he evidentlyrelaxed to some extent, and to have that sort of thing going on in mymidst at that hour was too much for me. 

"Voules!" I yelled. 

Spion Kop ceased with a jerk. There was silence, then sobs diminishingin the distance, and finally a tap at the door. Voules entered withthat impressive, my-lord-the-carriage-waits look which is what I payhim for. You wouldn't have believed he had a drop of any sort ofemotion in him. 

"Voules, " I said, "are you under the delusion that I'm going to beQueen of the May? You've called me early all right. It's only justseven. "

"I understood you to summon me, sir. "

"I summoned you to find out why you were making that infernal noiseoutside. "

"I owe you an apology, sir. I am afraid that in the heat of the momentI raised my voice. "

"It's a wonder you didn't raise the roof. Who was that with you?"

"Miss Pilbeam, sir; Mrs. Vanderley's maid. "

"What was all the trouble about?"

"I was breaking our engagement, sir. "

I couldn't help gaping. Somehow one didn't associate Voules withengagements. Then it struck me that I'd no right to butt in on hissecret sorrows, so I switched the conversation. 

"I think I'll get up, " I said. 

"Yes, sir. "

"I can't wait to breakfast with the rest. Can you get me some rightaway?"

"Yes, sir. "

So I had a solitary breakfast and went up on deck to smoke. It wasa lovely morning. Blue sea, gleaming Casino, cloudless sky, and allthe rest of the hippodrome. Presently the others began to trickle up. Stella Vanderley was one of the first. I thought she looked a bitpale and tired. She said she hadn't slept well. That accounted forit. Unless you get your eight hours, where are you?

"Seen George?" I asked. 

I couldn't help thinking the name seemed to freeze her a bit. Which wasqueer, because all the voyage she and George had been particularlyclose pals. In fact, at any moment I expected George to come to me andslip his little hand in mine, and whisper: "I've done it, old scout;she loves muh!"

"I have not seen Mr. Lattaker, " she said. 

I didn't pursue the subject. George's stock was apparently low thata. M. 

The next item in the day's programme occurred a few minutes later whenthe morning papers arrived. 

Mrs. Vanderley opened hers and gave a scream. 

"The poor, dear Prince!" she said. 

"What a shocking thing!" said old Marshall. 

"I knew him in Vienna, " said Mrs. Vanderley. "He waltzed divinely. "

Then I got at mine and saw what they were talking about. The paper wasfull of it. It seemed that late the night before His Serene Highnessthe Prince of Saxburg-Leignitz (I always wonder why they call thesechaps "Serene") had been murderously assaulted in a dark street onhis way back from the Casino to his yacht. Apparently he had developedthe habit of going about without an escort, and some rough-neck, takingadvantage of this, had laid for him and slugged him with considerablevim. The Prince had been found lying pretty well beaten up and insensiblein the street by a passing pedestrian, and had been taken back to hisyacht, where he still lay unconscious. 

"This is going to do somebody no good, " I said. "What do you get forslugging a Serene Highness? I wonder if they'll catch the fellow?"

"'Later, '" read old Marshall, "'the pedestrian who discovered HisSerene Highness proves to have been Mr. Denman Sturgis, the eminentprivate investigator. Mr. Sturgis has offered his services to thepolice, and is understood to be in possession of a most importantclue. ' That's the fellow who had charge of that kidnapping case inChicago. If anyone can catch the man, he can. "

About five minutes later, just as the rest of them were going to moveoff to breakfast, a boat hailed us and came alongside. A tall, thin mancame up the gangway. He looked round the group, and fixed on oldMarshall as the probable owner of the yacht. 

"Good morning, " he said. "I believe you have a Mr. Lattaker onboard--Mr. George Lattaker?"

"Yes, " said Marshall. "He's down below. Want to see him? Whom shall Isay?"

"He would not know my name. I should like to see him for a moment onsomewhat urgent business. "

"Take a seat. He'll be up in a moment. Reggie, my boy, go and hurry himup. "

I went down to George's state-room. 

"George, old man!" I shouted. 

No answer. I opened the door and went in. The room was empty. What'smore, the bunk hadn't been slept in. I don't know when I've been moresurprised. I went on deck. 

"He isn't there, " I said. 

"Not there!" said old Marshall. "Where is he, then? Perhaps he's gonefor a stroll ashore. But he'll be back soon for breakfast. You'd betterwait for him. Have you breakfasted? No? Then will you join us?"

The man said he would, and just then the gong went and they troopeddown, leaving me alone on deck. 

I sat smoking and thinking, and then smoking a bit more, when I thoughtI heard somebody call my name in a sort of hoarse whisper. I lookedover my shoulder, and, by Jove, there at the top of the gangway inevening dress, dusty to the eyebrows and without a hat, was dear oldGeorge. 

"Great Scot!" I cried. 

"'Sh!" he whispered. "Anyone about?"

"They're all down at breakfast. "

He gave a sigh of relief, sank into my chair, and closed his eyes. Iregarded him with pity. The poor old boy looked a wreck. 

"I say!" I said, touching him on the shoulder. 

He leaped out of the chair with a smothered yell. 

"Did you do that? What did you do it for? What's the sense of it? Howdo you suppose you can ever make yourself popular if you go abouttouching people on the shoulder? My nerves are sticking a yard out ofmy body this morning, Reggie!"

"Yes, old boy?"

"I did a murder last night. "

"What?"

"It's the sort of thing that might happen to anybody. Directly StellaVanderley broke off our engagement I----"

"Broke off your engagement? How long were you engaged?"

"About two minutes. It may have been less. I hadn't a stop-watch. Iproposed to her at ten last night in the saloon. She accepted me. I wasjust going to kiss her when we heard someone coming. I went out. Comingalong the corridor was that infernal what's-her-name--Mrs. Vanderley'smaid--Pilbeam. Have you ever been accepted by the girl you love, Reggie?"

"Never. I've been refused dozens----"

"Then you won't understand how I felt. I was off my head with joy. Ihardly knew what I was doing. I just felt I had to kiss the nearestthing handy. I couldn't wait. It might have been the ship's cat. Itwasn't. It was Pilbeam. "

"You kissed her?"

"I kissed her. And just at that moment the door of the saloon openedand out came Stella. "

"Great Scott!"

"Exactly what I said. It flashed across me that to Stella, dear girl, not knowing the circumstances, the thing might seem a little odd. Itdid. She broke off the engagement, and I got out the dinghy and rowedoff. I was mad. I didn't care what became of me. I simply wanted toforget. I went ashore. I--It's just on the cards that I may have drownedmy sorrows a bit. Anyhow, I don't remember a thing, except that I canrecollect having the deuce of a scrap with somebody in a dark streetand somebody falling, and myself falling, and myself legging it for allI was worth. I woke up this morning in the Casino gardens. I've lost myhat. "

I dived for the paper. 

"Read, " I said. "It's all there. "

He read. 

"Good heavens!" he said. 

"You didn't do a thing to His Serene Nibs, did you?"

"Reggie, this is awful. "

"Cheer up. They say he'll recover. "

"That doesn't matter. "

"It does to him. "

He read the paper again. 

"It says they've a clue. "

"They always say that. "

"But--My hat!"

"Eh?"

"My hat. I must have dropped it during the scrap. This man, DenmanSturgis, must have found it. It had my name in it!"

"George, " I said, "you mustn't waste time. Oh!"

He jumped a foot in the air. 

"Don't do it!" he said, irritably. "Don't bark like that. What's thematter?"

"The man!"

"What man?"

"A tall, thin man with an eye like a gimlet. He arrived just before youdid. He's down in the saloon now, having breakfast. He said he wantedto see you on business, and wouldn't give his name. I didn't like thelook of him from the first. It's this fellow Sturgis. It must be. "

"No!"

"I feel it. I'm sure of it. "

"Had he a hat?"

"Of course he had a hat. "

"Fool! I mean mine. Was he carrying a hat?"

"By Jove, he _was_ carrying a parcel. George, old scout, you mustget a move on. You must light out if you want to spend the rest of yourlife out of prison. Slugging a Serene Highness is _lèse-majesté_. It's worse than hitting a policeman. You haven't got a moment towaste. "

"But I haven't any money. Reggie, old man, lend me a tenner orsomething. I must get over the frontier into Italy at once. I'll wiremy uncle to meet me in----"

"Look out, " I cried; "there's someone coming!"

He dived out of sight just as Voules came up the companion-way, carrying a letter on a tray. 

"What's the matter!" I said. "What do you want?"

"I beg your pardon, sir. I thought I heard Mr. Lattaker's voice. Aletter has arrived for him. "

"He isn't here. "

"No, sir. Shall I remove the letter?"

"No; give it to me. I'll give it to him when he comes. "

"Very good, sir. "

"Oh, Voules! Are they all still at breakfast? The gentleman who came tosee Mr. Lattaker? Still hard at it?"

"He is at present occupied with a kippered herring, sir. "

"Ah! That's all, Voules. "

"Thank you, sir. "

He retired. I called to George, and he came out. 

"Who was it?"

"Only Voules. He brought a letter for you. They're all at breakfaststill. The sleuth's eating kippers. "

"That'll hold him for a bit. Full of bones. " He began to read hisletter. He gave a kind of grunt of surprise at the first paragraph. 

"Well, I'm hanged!" he said, as he finished. 

"Reggie, this is a queer thing. "

"What's that?"

He handed me the letter, and directly I started in on it I saw why hehad grunted. This is how it ran:

 "My dear George--I shall be seeing you to-morrow, I hope; but I think it is better, before we meet, to prepare you for a curious situation that has arisen in connection with the legacy which your father inherited from your Aunt Emily, and which you are expecting me, as trustee, to hand over to you, now that you have reached your twenty-fifth birthday. You have doubtless heard your father speak of your twin-brother Alfred, who was lost or kidnapped--which, was never ascertained--when you were both babies. When no news was received of him for so many years, it was supposed that he was dead. Yesterday, however, I received a letter purporting that he had been living all this time in Buenos Ayres as the adopted son of a wealthy South American, and has only recently discovered his identity. He states that he is on his way to meet me, and will arrive any day now. Of course, like other claimants, he may prove to be an impostor, but meanwhile his intervention will, I fear, cause a certain delay before I can hand over your money to you. It will be necessary to go into a thorough examination of credentials, etc. , and this will take some time. But I will go fully into the matter with you when we meet. --Your affectionate uncle, "AUGUSTUS ARBUTT. "

I read it through twice, and the second time I had one of those ideas Ido sometimes get, though admittedly a chump of the premier class. Ihave seldom had such a thoroughly corking brain-wave. 

"Why, old top, " I said, "this lets you out. "

"Lets me out of half the darned money, if that's what you mean. If thischap's not an imposter--and there's no earthly reason to suppose he is, though I've never heard my father say a word about him--we shall haveto split the money. Aunt Emily's will left the money to my father, or, failing him, his 'offspring. ' I thought that meant me, but apparentlythere are a crowd of us. I call it rotten work, springing unexpectedoffspring on a fellow at the eleventh hour like this. "

"Why, you chump, " I said, "it's going to save you. This lets you out ofyour spectacular dash across the frontier. All you've got to do is tostay here and be your brother Alfred. It came to me in a flash. "

He looked at me in a kind of dazed way. 

"You ought to be in some sort of a home, Reggie. "

"Ass!" I cried. "Don't you understand? Have you ever heard oftwin-brothers who weren't exactly alike? Who's to say you aren'tAlfred if you swear you are? Your uncle will be there to back youup that you have a brother Alfred. "

"And Alfred will be there to call me a liar. "

"He won't. It's not as if you had to keep it up for the rest of yourlife. It's only for an hour or two, till we can get this detectiveoff the yacht. We sail for England to-morrow morning. "

At last the thing seemed to sink into him. His face brightened. 

"Why, I really do believe it would work, " he said. 

"Of course it would work. If they want proof, show them your mole. I'llswear George hadn't one. "

"And as Alfred I should get a chance of talking to Stella and makingthings all right for George. Reggie, old top, you're a genius. "

"No, no. "

"You _are_. "

"Well, it's only sometimes. I can't keep it up. "

And just then there was a gentle cough behind us. We spun round. 

"What the devil are you doing here, Voules, " I said. 

"I beg your pardon, sir. I have heard all. "

I looked at George. George looked at me. 

"Voules is all right, " I said. "Decent Voules! Voules wouldn't give usaway, would you, Voules?"

"Yes, sir. "

"You would?"

"Yes, sir. "

"But, Voules, old man, " I said, "be sensible. What would you gain byit?"

"Financially, sir, nothing. "

"Whereas, by keeping quiet"--I tapped him on the chest--"by holdingyour tongue, Voules, by saying nothing about it to anybody, Voules, oldfellow, you might gain a considerable sum. "

"Am I to understand, sir, that, because you are rich and I am poor, youthink that you can buy my self-respect?"

"Oh, come!" I said. 

"How much?" said Voules. 

So we switched to terms. You wouldn't believe the way the man haggled. You'd have thought a decent, faithful servant would have been delightedto oblige one in a little matter like that for a fiver. But not Voules. By no means. It was a hundred down, and the promise of another hundredwhen we had got safely away, before he was satisfied. But we fixed itup at last, and poor old George got down to his state-room and changedhis clothes. 

He'd hardly gone when the breakfast-party came on deck. 

"Did you meet him?" I asked. 

"Meet whom?" said old Marshall. 

"George's twin-brother Alfred. "

"I didn't know George had a brother. "

"Nor did he till yesterday. It's a long story. He was kidnapped ininfancy, and everyone thought he was dead. George had a letter from hisuncle about him yesterday. I shouldn't wonder if that's where Georgehas gone, to see his uncle and find out about it. In the meantime, Alfred has arrived. He's down in George's state-room now, having abrush-up. It'll amaze you, the likeness between them. You'll think it_is_ George at first. Look! Here he comes. "

And up came George, brushed and clean, in an ordinary yachting suit. 

They were rattled. There was no doubt about that. They stood looking athim, as if they thought there was a catch somewhere, but weren't quitecertain where it was. I introduced him, and still they looked doubtful. 

"Mr. Pepper tells me my brother is not on board, " said George. 

"It's an amazing likeness, " said old Marshall. 

"Is my brother like me?" asked George amiably. 

"No one could tell you apart, " I said. 

"I suppose twins always are alike, " said George. "But if it ever cameto a question of identification, there would be one way ofdistinguishing us. Do you know George well, Mr. Pepper?"

"He's a dear old pal of mine. "

"You've been swimming with him perhaps?"

"Every day last August. "

"Well, then, you would have noticed it if he had had a mole like thison the back of his neck, wouldn't you?" He turned his back and stoopedand showed the mole. His collar hid it at ordinary times. I had seen itoften when we were bathing together. 

"Has George a mole like that?" he asked. 

"No, " I said. "Oh, no. "

"You would have noticed it if he had?"

"Yes, " I said. "Oh, yes. "

"I'm glad of that, " said George. "It would be a nuisance not to be ableto prove one's own identity. "

That seemed to satisfy them all. They couldn't get away from it. Itseemed to me that from now on the thing was a walk-over. And I thinkGeorge felt the same, for, when old Marshall asked him if he had hadbreakfast, he said he had not, went below, and pitched in as if hehadn't a care in the world. 

Everything went right till lunch-time. George sat in the shade on theforedeck talking to Stella most of the time. When the gong went and therest had started to go below, he drew me back. He was beaming. 

"It's all right, " he said. "What did I tell you?"

"What did you tell me?"

"Why, about Stella. Didn't I say that Alfred would fix things forGeorge? I told her she looked worried, and got her to tell me what thetrouble was. And then----"

"You must have shown a flash of speed if you got her to confide in youafter knowing you for about two hours. "

"Perhaps I did, " said George modestly, "I had no notion, till I becamehim, what a persuasive sort of chap my brother Alfred was. Anyway, shetold me all about it, and I started in to show her that George was apretty good sort of fellow on the whole, who oughtn't to be turned downfor what was evidently merely temporary insanity. She saw my point. "

"And it's all right?"

"Absolutely, if only we can produce George. How much longer does thatinfernal sleuth intend to stay here? He seems to have taken root. "

"I fancy he thinks that you're bound to come back sooner or later, andis waiting for you. "

"He's an absolute nuisance, " said George. 

We were moving towards the companion way, to go below for lunch, when aboat hailed us. We went to the side and looked over. 

"It's my uncle, " said George. 

A stout man came up the gangway. 

"Halloa, George!" he said. "Get my letter?"

"I think you are mistaking me for my brother, " said George. "My name isAlfred Lattaker. "

"What's that?"

"I am George's brother Alfred. Are you my Uncle Augustus?"

The stout man stared at him. 

"You're very like George, " he said. 

"So everyone tells me. "

"And you're really Alfred?"

"I am. "

"I'd like to talk business with you for a moment. "

He cocked his eye at me. I sidled off and went below. 

At the foot of the companion-steps I met Voules, "I beg your pardon, sir, " said Voules. "If it would be convenient Ishould be glad to have the afternoon off. "

I'm bound to say I rather liked his manner. Absolutely normal. Not atrace of the fellow-conspirator about it. I gave him the afternoon off. 

I had lunch--George didn't show up--and as I was going out I waswaylaid by the girl Pilbeam. She had been crying. 

"I beg your pardon, sir, but did Mr. Voules ask you for the afternoon?"

I didn't see what business if was of hers, but she seemed all worked upabout it, so I told her. 

"Yes, I have given him the afternoon off. "

She broke down--absolutely collapsed. Devilish unpleasant it was. I'mhopeless in a situation like this. After I'd said, "There, there!"which didn't seem to help much, I hadn't any remarks to make. 

"He s-said he was going to the tables to gamble away all his savingsand then shoot himself, because he had nothing left to live for. "

I suddenly remembered the scrap in the small hours outside mystate-room door. I hate mysteries. I meant to get to the bottom ofthis. I couldn't have a really first-class valet like Voules goingabout the place shooting himself up. Evidently the girl Pilbeam wasat the bottom of the thing. I questioned her. She sobbed. 

I questioned her more. I was firm. And eventually she yielded up thefacts. Voules had seen George kiss her the night before; that was thetrouble. 

Things began to piece themselves together. I went up to interview George. There was going to be another job for persuasive Alfred. Voules's mindhad got to be eased as Stella's had been. I couldn't afford to lose afellow with his genius for preserving a trouser-crease. 

I found George on the foredeck. What is it Shakespeare or somebody saysabout some fellow's face being sicklied o'er with the pale cast ofcare? George's was like that. He looked green. 

"Finished with your uncle?" I said. 

He grinned a ghostly grin. 

"There isn't any uncle, " he said. "There isn't any Alfred. And thereisn't any money. "

"Explain yourself, old top, " I said. 

"It won't take long. The old crook has spent every penny of thetrust money. He's been at it for years, ever since I was a kid. Whenthe time came to cough up, and I was due to see that he did it, hewent to the tables in the hope of a run of luck, and lost the lastremnant of the stuff. He had to find a way of holding me for a whileand postponing the squaring of accounts while he got away, and heinvented this twin-brother business. He knew I should find out sooneror later, but meanwhile he would be able to get off to South America, which he has done. He's on his way now. "

"You let him go?"

"What could I do? I can't afford to make a fuss with that man Sturgisaround. I can't prove there's no Alfred when my only chance of avoidingprison is to be Alfred. "

"Well, you've made things right for yourself with Stella Vanderley, anyway, " I said, to cheer him up. 

"What's the good of that now? I've hardly any money and no prospects. How can I marry her?"

I pondered. 

"It looks to me, old top, " I said at last, "as if things were in a bitof a mess. "

"You've guessed it, " said poor old George. 

I spent the afternoon musing on Life. If you come to think of it, whata queer thing Life is! So unlike anything else, don't you know, if yousee what I mean. At any moment you may be strolling peacefully along, and all the time Life's waiting around the corner to fetch you one. Youcan't tell when you may be going to get it. It's all dashed puzzling. Here was poor old George, as well-meaning a fellow as ever stepped, getting swatted all over the ring by the hand of Fate. Why? That's whatI asked myself. Just Life, don't you know. That's all there was aboutit. 

It was close on six o'clock when our third visitor of the day arrived. We were sitting on the afterdeck in the cool of the evening--oldMarshall, Denman Sturgis, Mrs. Vanderley, Stella, George, and I--whenhe came up. We had been talking of George, and old Marshall wassuggesting the advisability of sending out search-parties. He wasworried. So was Stella Vanderley. So, for that matter, were George andI, only not for the same reason. 

We were just arguing the thing out when the visitor appeared. He was awell-built, stiff sort of fellow. He spoke with a German accent. 

"Mr. Marshall?" he said. "I am Count Fritz von Cöslin, equerry to HisSerene Highness"--he clicked his heels together and saluted--"thePrince of Saxburg-Leignitz. "

Mrs. Vanderley jumped up. 

"Why, Count, " she said, "what ages since we met in Vienna! Youremember?"

"Could I ever forget? And the charming Miss Stella, she is well, Isuppose not?"

"Stella, you remember Count Fritz?"

Stella shook hands with him. 

"And how is the poor, dear Prince?" asked Mrs. Vanderley. "What aterrible thing to have happened!"

"I rejoice to say that my high-born master is better. He has regainedconsciousness and is sitting up and taking nourishment. "

"That's good, " said old Marshall. 

"In a spoon only, " sighed the Count. "Mr. Marshall, with yourpermission I should like a word with Mr. Sturgis. "

"Mr. Who?"

The gimlet-eyed sportsman came forward. 

"I am Denman Sturgis, at your service. "

"The deuce you are! What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Sturgis, " explained the Count, "graciously volunteered hisservices----"

"I know. But what's he doing here?"

"I am waiting for Mr. George Lattaker, Mr. Marshall. "

"Eh?"

"You have not found him?" asked the Count anxiously. 

"Not yet, Count; but I hope to do so shortly. I know what he looks likenow. This gentleman is his twin-brother. They are doubles. "

"You are sure this gentleman is not Mr. George Lattaker?"

George put his foot down firmly on the suggestion. 

"Don't go mixing me up with my brother, " he said. "I am Alfred. You cantell me by my mole. "

He exhibited the mole. He was taking no risks. 

The Count clicked his tongue regretfully. 

"I am sorry, " he said. 

George didn't offer to console him, "Don't worry, " said Sturgis. "He won't escape me. I shall find him. "

"Do, Mr. Sturgis, do. And quickly. Find swiftly that noble young man. "

"What?" shouted George. 

"That noble young man, George Lattaker, who, at the risk of his life, saved my high-born master from the assassin. "

George sat down suddenly. 

"I don't understand, " he said feebly. 

"We were wrong, Mr. Sturgis, " went on the Count. "We leaped to theconclusion--was it not so?--that the owner of the hat you found wasalso the assailant of my high-born master. We were wrong. I have heardthe story from His Serene Highness's own lips. He was passing down adark street when a ruffian in a mask sprang out upon him. Doubtless hehad been followed from the Casino, where he had been winning heavily. My high-born master was taken by surprise. He was felled. But before helost consciousness he perceived a young man in evening dress, wearingthe hat you found, running swiftly towards him. The hero engaged theassassin in combat, and my high-born master remembers no more. HisSerene Highness asks repeatedly, 'Where is my brave preserver?' Hisgratitude is princely. He seeks for this young man to reward him. Ah, you should be proud of your brother, sir!"

"Thanks, " said George limply. 

"And you, Mr. Sturgis, you must redouble your efforts. You must searchthe land; you must scour the sea to find George Lattaker. "

"He needn't take all that trouble, " said a voice from the gangway. 

It was Voules. His face was flushed, his hat was on the back of hishead, and he was smoking a fat cigar. 

"I'll tell you where to find George Lattaker!" he shouted. 

He glared at George, who was staring at him. 

"Yes, look at me, " he yelled. "Look at me. You won't be the first thisafternoon who's stared at the mysterious stranger who won for two hourswithout a break. I'll be even with you now, Mr. Blooming Lattaker. I'lllearn you to break a poor man's heart. Mr. Marshall and gents, thismorning I was on deck, and I over'eard 'im plotting to put up a game onyou. They'd spotted that gent there as a detective, and they arrangedthat blooming Lattaker was to pass himself off as his own twin-brother. And if you wanted proof, blooming Pepper tells him to show them hismole and he'd swear George hadn't one. Those were his very words. Thatman there is George Lattaker, Hesquire, and let him deny it if he can. "

George got up. 

"I haven't the least desire to deny it, Voules. "

"Mr. Voules, if _you_ please. "

"It's true, " said George, turning to the Count. "The fact is, I hadrather a foggy recollection of what happened last night. I onlyremembered knocking some one down, and, like you, I jumped to theconclusion that I must have assaulted His Serene Highness. "

"Then you are really George Lattaker?" asked the Count. 

"I am. "

"'Ere, what does all this mean?" demanded Voules. 

"Merely that I saved the life of His Serene Highness the Prince ofSaxburg-Leignitz, Mr. Voules. "

"It's a swindle!" began Voules, when there was a sudden rush and thegirl Pilbeam cannoned into the crowd, sending me into old Marshall'schair, and flung herself into the arms of Voules. 

"Oh, Harold!" she cried. "I thought you were dead. I thought you'd shotyourself. "

He sort of braced himself together to fling her off, and then he seemedto think better of it and fell into the clinch. 

It was all dashed romantic, don't you know, but there _are_ limits. 

"Voules, you're sacked, " I said. 

"Who cares?" he said. "Think I was going to stop on now I'm a gentlemanof property? Come along, Emma, my dear. Give a month's notice and getyour 'at, and I'll take you to dinner at Ciro's. "

"And you, Mr. Lattaker, " said the Count, "may I conduct you to thepresence of my high-born master? He wishes to show his gratitude to hispreserver. "

"You may, " said George. "May I have my hat, Mr. Sturgis?"

There's just one bit more. After dinner that night I came up for asmoke, and, strolling on to the foredeck, almost bumped into George andStella. They seemed to be having an argument. 

"I'm not sure, " she was saying, "that I believe that a man can be sohappy that he wants to kiss the nearest thing in sight, as you put it. "

"Don't you?" said George. "Well, as it happens, I'm feeling just thatway now. "

I coughed and he turned round. 

"Halloa, Reggie!" he said. 

"Halloa, George!" I said. "Lovely night. "

"Beautiful, " said Stella. 

"The moon, " I said. 

"Ripping, " said George. 

"Lovely, " said Stella. 

"And look at the reflection of the stars on the----"

George caught my eye. "Pop off, " he said. 

I popped. 

DOING CLARENCE A BIT OF GOOD

Have you ever thought about--and, when I say thought about, I meanreally carefully considered the question of--the coolness, the cheek, or, if you prefer it, the gall with which Woman, as a sex, fairlybursts? _I_ have, by Jove! But then I've had it thrust on mynotice, by George, in a way I should imagine has happened to prettyfew fellows. And the limit was reached by that business of theYeardsley "Venus. "

To make you understand the full what-d'you-call-it of the situation, Ishall have to explain just how matters stood between Mrs. Yeardsley andmyself. 

When I first knew her she was Elizabeth Shoolbred. Old Worcestershirefamily; pots of money; pretty as a picture. Her brother Bill was atOxford with me. 

I loved Elizabeth Shoolbred. I loved her, don't you know. And there wasa time, for about a week, when we were engaged to be married. But justas I was beginning to take a serious view of life and study furniturecatalogues and feel pretty solemn when the restaurant orchestra played"The Wedding Glide, " I'm hanged if she didn't break it off, and a monthlater she was married to a fellow of the name of Yeardsley--ClarenceYeardsley, an artist. 

What with golf, and billiards, and a bit of racing, and fellows at theclub rallying round and kind of taking me out of myself, as it were, Igot over it, and came to look on the affair as a closed page in thebook of my life, if you know what I mean. It didn't seem likely to methat we should meet again, as she and Clarence had settled down in thecountry somewhere and never came to London, and I'm bound to own that, by the time I got her letter, the wound had pretty well healed, and Iwas to a certain extent sitting up and taking nourishment. In fact, tobe absolutely honest, I was jolly thankful the thing had ended as ithad done. 

This letter I'm telling you about arrived one morning out of a bluesky, as it were. It ran like this:

 "MY DEAR OLD REGGIE, --What ages it seems since I saw anything of you. How are you? We have settled down here in the most perfect old house, with a lovely garden, in the middle of delightful country. Couldn't you run down here for a few days? Clarence and I would be so glad to see you. Bill is here, and is most anxious to meet you again. He was speaking of you only this morning. _Do_ come. Wire your train, and I will send the car to meet you. --Yours most sincerely, ELIZABETH YEARDSLEY. 

 "P. S. --We can give you new milk and fresh eggs. Think of that!

 "P. P. S. --Bill says our billiard-table is one of the best he has ever played on. 

 "P. P. S. S. --We are only half a mile from a golf course. Bill says it is better than St. Andrews. 

 "P. P. S. S. S. --You _must_ come!"

Well, a fellow comes down to breakfast one morning, with a bit of ahead on, and finds a letter like that from a girl who might quiteeasily have blighted his life! It rattled me rather, I must confess. 

However, that bit about the golf settled me. I knew Bill knew what hewas talking about, and, if he said the course was so topping, it mustbe something special. So I went. 

Old Bill met me at the station with the car. I hadn't come across himfor some months, and I was glad to see him again. And he apparently wasglad to see me. 

"Thank goodness you've come, " he said, as we drove off. "I was justabout at my last grip. "

"What's the trouble, old scout?" I asked. 

"If I had the artistic what's-its-name, " he went on, "if the meremention of pictures didn't give me the pip, I dare say it wouldn't beso bad. As it is, it's rotten!"

"Pictures?"

"Pictures. Nothing else is mentioned in this household. Clarence is anartist. So is his father. And you know yourself what Elizabeth is likewhen one gives her her head?"

I remembered then--it hadn't come back to me before--that most of mytime with Elizabeth had been spent in picture-galleries. During theperiod when I had let her do just what she wanted to do with me, I hadhad to follow her like a dog through gallery after gallery, thoughpictures are poison to me, just as they are to old Bill. Somehow it hadnever struck me that she would still be going on in this way aftermarrying an artist. I should have thought that by this time the meresight of a picture would have fed her up. Not so, however, according toold Bill. 

"They talk pictures at every meal, " he said. "I tell you, it makes achap feel out of it. How long are you down for?"

"A few days. "

"Take my tip, and let me send you a wire from London. I go thereto-morrow. I promised to play against the Scottish. The idea wasthat I was to come back after the match. But you couldn't get meback with a lasso. "

I tried to point out the silver lining. 

"But, Bill, old scout, your sister says there's a most corking linksnear here. "

He turned and stared at me, and nearly ran us into the bank. 

"You don't mean honestly she said that?"

"She said you said it was better than St. Andrews. "

"So I did. Was that all she said I said?"

"Well, wasn't it enough?"

"She didn't happen to mention that I added the words, 'I don't think'?"

"No, she forgot to tell me that. "

"It's the worst course in Great Britain. "

I felt rather stunned, don't you know. Whether it's a bad habit to havegot into or not, I can't say, but I simply can't do without my dailyallowance of golf when I'm not in London. 

I took another whirl at the silver lining. 

"We'll have to take it out in billiards, " I said. "I'm glad the table'sgood. "

"It depends what you call good. It's half-size, and there's a seven-inchcut just out of baulk where Clarence's cue slipped. Elizabeth has mendedit with pink silk. Very smart and dressy it looks, but it doesn't improvethe thing as a billiard-table. "

"But she said you said----"

"Must have been pulling your leg. "

We turned in at the drive gates of a good-sized house standing wellback from the road. It looked black and sinister in the dusk, and Icouldn't help feeling, you know, like one of those Johnnies you readabout in stories who are lured to lonely houses for rummy purposes andhear a shriek just as they get there. Elizabeth knew me well enough toknow that a specially good golf course was a safe draw to me. And shehad deliberately played on her knowledge. What was the game? That waswhat I wanted to know. And then a sudden thought struck me which broughtme out in a cold perspiration. She had some girl down here and was goingto have a stab at marrying me off. I've often heard that young marriedwomen are all over that sort of thing. Certainly she had said there wasnobody at the house but Clarence and herself and Bill and Clarence'sfather, but a woman who could take the name of St. Andrews in vain asshe had done wouldn't be likely to stick at a trifle. 

"Bill, old scout, " I said, "there aren't any frightful girls or any rotof that sort stopping here, are there?"

"Wish there were, " he said. "No such luck. "

As we pulled up at the front door, it opened, and a woman's figureappeared. 

"Have you got him, Bill?" she said, which in my present frame of mindstruck me as a jolly creepy way of putting it. The sort of thing LadyMacbeth might have said to Macbeth, don't you know. 

"Do you mean me?" I said. 

She came down into the light. It was Elizabeth, looking just the sameas in the old days. 

"Is that you, Reggie? I'm so glad you were able to come. I was afraidyou might have forgotten all about it. You know what you are. Comealong in and have some tea. "

 * * * * *

Have you ever been turned down by a girl who afterwards married andthen been introduced to her husband? If so you'll understand how I feltwhen Clarence burst on me. You know the feeling. First of all, when youhear about the marriage, you say to yourself, "I wonder what he's like. "Then you meet him, and think, "There must be some mistake. She can't havepreferred _this_ to me!" That's what I thought, when I set eyes onClarence. 

He was a little thin, nervous-looking chappie of about thirty-five. Hishair was getting grey at the temples and straggly on top. He worepince-nez, and he had a drooping moustache. I'm no Bombardier Wellsmyself, but in front of Clarence I felt quite a nut. And Elizabeth, mind you, is one of those tall, splendid girls who look like princesses. Honestly, I believe women do it out of pure cussedness. 

"How do you do, Mr. Pepper? Hark! Can you hear a mewing cat?" saidClarence. All in one breath, don't you know. 

"Eh?" I said. 

"A mewing cat. I feel sure I hear a mewing cat. Listen!"

While we were listening the door opened, and a white-haired oldgentleman came in. He was built on the same lines as Clarence, but wasan earlier model. I took him correctly, to be Mr. Yeardsley, senior. Elizabeth introduced us. 

"Father, " said Clarence, "did you meet a mewing cat outside? I feelpositive I heard a cat mewing. "

"No, " said the father, shaking his head; "no mewing cat. "

"I can't bear mewing cats, " said Clarence. "A mewing cat gets on mynerves!"

"A mewing cat is so trying, " said Elizabeth. 

"_I_ dislike mewing cats, " said old Mr. Yeardsley. 

That was all about mewing cats for the moment. They seemed to thinkthey had covered the ground satisfactorily, and they went back topictures. 

We talked pictures steadily till it was time to dress for dinner. Atleast, they did. I just sort of sat around. Presently the subject ofpicture-robberies came up. Somebody mentioned the "Monna Lisa, " andthen I happened to remember seeing something in the evening paper, as Iwas coming down in the train, about some fellow somewhere having had avaluable painting pinched by burglars the night before. It was thefirst time I had had a chance of breaking into the conversation withany effect, and I meant to make the most of it. The paper was in thepocket of my overcoat in the hall. I went and fetched it. 

"Here it is, " I said. "A Romney belonging to Sir Bellamy Palmer----"

They all shouted "What!" exactly at the same time, like a chorus. Elizabeth grabbed the paper. 

"Let me look! Yes. 'Late last night burglars entered the residence ofSir Bellamy Palmer, Dryden Park, Midford, Hants----'"

"Why, that's near here, " I said. "I passed through Midford----"

"Dryden Park is only two miles from this house, " said Elizabeth. Inoticed her eyes were sparkling. 

"Only two miles!" she said. "It might have been us! It might have beenthe 'Venus'!"

Old Mr. Yeardsley bounded in his chair. 

"The 'Venus'!" he cried. 

They all seemed wonderfully excited. My little contribution to theevening's chat had made quite a hit. 

Why I didn't notice it before I don't know, but it was not till Elizabethshowed it to me after dinner that I had my first look at the Yeardsley"Venus. " When she led me up to it, and switched on the light, it seemedimpossible that I could have sat right through dinner without noticingit. But then, at meals, my attention is pretty well riveted on thefoodstuffs. Anyway, it was not till Elizabeth showed it to me that Iwas aware of its existence. 

She and I were alone in the drawing-room after dinner. Old Yeardsleywas writing letters in the morning-room, while Bill and Clarence wererollicking on the half-size billiard table with the pink silk tapestryeffects. All, in fact, was joy, jollity, and song, so to speak, whenElizabeth, who had been sitting wrapped in thought for a bit, benttowards me and said, "Reggie. "

And the moment she said it I knew something was going to happen. Youknow that pre-what-d'you-call-it you get sometimes? Well, I got itthen. 

"What-o?" I said nervously. 

"Reggie, " she said, "I want to ask a great favour of you. "

"Yes?"

She stooped down and put a log on the fire, and went on, with her backto me:

"Do you remember, Reggie, once saying you would do anything in theworld for me?"

There! That's what I meant when I said that about the cheek of Woman asa sex. What I mean is, after what had happened, you'd have thought shewould have preferred to let the dead past bury its dead, and all thatsort of thing, what?

Mind you, I _had_ said I would do anything in the world for her. I admit that. But it was a distinctly pre-Clarence remark. He hadn'tappeared on the scene then, and it stands to reason that a fellow whomay have been a perfect knight-errant to a girl when he was engaged toher, doesn't feel nearly so keen on spreading himself in that directionwhen she has given him the miss-in-baulk, and gone and married a manwho reason and instinct both tell him is a decided blighter. 

I couldn't think of anything to say but "Oh, yes. "

"There's something you can do for me now, which will make meeverlastingly grateful. "

"Yes, " I said. 

"Do you know, Reggie, " she said suddenly, "that only a few months agoClarence was very fond of cats?"

"Eh! Well, he still seems--er--_interested_ in them, what?"

"Now they get on his nerves. Everything gets on his nerves. "

"Some fellows swear by that stuff you see advertised all over the----"

"No, that wouldn't help him. He doesn't need to take anything. He wantsto get rid of something. "

"I don't quite fellow. Get rid of something?"

"The 'Venus, '" said Elizabeth. 

She looked up and caught my bulging eye. 

"You saw the 'Venus, '" she said. 

"Not that I remember. "

"Well, come into the dining-room. "

We went into the dining-room, and she switched on the lights. 

"There, " she said. 

On the wall close to the door--that may have been why I hadn't noticedit before; I had sat with my back to it--was a large oil-painting. Itwas what you'd call a classical picture, I suppose. What I mean is--well, you know what I mean. All I can say is that it's funny I _hadn't_noticed it. 

"Is that the 'Venus'?" I said. 

She nodded. 

"How would you like to have to look at that every time you sat down toa meal?"

"Well, I don't know. I don't think it would affect me much. I'd worrythrough all right. "

She jerked her head impatiently. 

"But you're not an artist, " she said. "Clarence is. "

And then I began to see daylight. What exactly was the trouble I didn'tunderstand, but it was evidently something to do with the good oldArtistic Temperament, and I could believe anything about that. Itexplains everything. It's like the Unwritten Law, don't you know, which you plead in America if you've done anything they want to sendyou to chokey for and you don't want to go. What I mean is, if you'reabsolutely off your rocker, but don't find it convenient to be scoopedinto the luny-bin, you simply explain that, when you said you were ateapot, it was just your Artistic Temperament, and they apologize andgo away. So I stood by to hear just how the A. T. Had affected Clarence, the Cat's Friend, ready for anything. 

And, believe me, it had hit Clarence badly. 

It was this way. It seemed that old Yeardsley was an amateur artist andthat this "Venus" was his masterpiece. He said so, and he ought to haveknown. Well, when Clarence married, he had given it to him, as a weddingpresent, and had hung it where it stood with his own hands. All right sofar, what? But mark the sequel. Temperamental Clarence, being aprofessional artist and consequently some streets ahead of the dad atthe game, saw flaws in the "Venus. " He couldn't stand it at any price. He didn't like the drawing. He didn't like the expression of the face. He didn't like the colouring. In fact, it made him feel quite ill tolook at it. Yet, being devoted to his father and wanting to do anythingrather than give him pain, he had not been able to bring himself tostore the thing in the cellar, and the strain of confronting thepicture three times a day had begun to tell on him to such an extentthat Elizabeth felt something had to be done. 

"Now you see, " she said. 

"In a way, " I said. "But don't you think it's making rather heavyweather over a trifle?"

"Oh, can't you understand? Look!" Her voice dropped as if she was inchurch, and she switched on another light. It shone on the picture nextto old Yeardsley's. "There!" she said. "Clarence painted that!"

She looked at me expectantly, as if she were waiting for me to swoon, or yell, or something. I took a steady look at Clarence's effort. Itwas another Classical picture. It seemed to me very much like the otherone. 

Some sort of art criticism was evidently expected of me, so I made adash at it. 

"Er--'Venus'?" I said. 

Mark you, Sherlock Holmes would have made the same mistake. On theevidence, I mean. 

"No. 'Jocund Spring, '" she snapped. She switched off the light. "I seeyou don't understand even now. You never had any taste about pictures. When we used to go to the galleries together, you would far rather havebeen at your club. "

This was so absolutely true, that I had no remark to make. She came upto me, and put her hand on my arm. 

"I'm sorry, Reggie. I didn't mean to be cross. Only I do want to make youunderstand that Clarence is _suffering_. Suppose--suppose--well, letus take the case of a great musician. Suppose a great musician had to sitand listen to a cheap vulgar tune--the same tune--day after day, day afterday, wouldn't you expect his nerves to break! Well, it's just like thatwith Clarence. Now you see?"

"Yes, but----"

"But what? Surely I've put it plainly enough?"

"Yes. But what I mean is, where do I come in? What do you want me todo?"

"I want you to steal the 'Venus. '"

I looked at her. 

"You want me to----?"

"Steal it. Reggie!" Her eyes were shining with excitement. "Don't yousee? It's Providence. When I asked you to come here, I had just got theidea. I knew I could rely on you. And then by a miracle this robbery ofthe Romney takes place at a house not two miles away. It removes thelast chance of the poor old man suspecting anything and having hisfeelings hurt. Why, it's the most wonderful compliment to him. Think!One night thieves steal a splendid Romney; the next the same gang takehis 'Venus. ' It will be the proudest moment of his life. Do it to-night, Reggie. I'll give you a sharp knife. You simply cut the canvas out ofthe frame, and it's done. "

"But one moment, " I said. "I'd be delighted to be of any use to you, but in a purely family affair like this, wouldn't it be better--infact, how about tackling old Bill on the subject?"

"I have asked Bill already. Yesterday. He refused. "

"But if I'm caught?"

"You can't be. All you have to do is to take the picture, open one ofthe windows, leave it open, and go back to your room. "

It sounded simple enough. 

"And as to the picture itself--when I've got it?"

"Burn it. I'll see that you have a good fire in your room. "

"But----"

She looked at me. She always did have the most wonderful eyes. 

"Reggie, " she said; nothing more. Just "Reggie. "

She looked at me. 

"Well, after all, if you see what I mean--The days that are no more, don't you know. Auld Lang Syne, and all that sort of thing. You followme?"

"All right, " I said. "I'll do it. "

I don't know if you happen to be one of those Johnnies who are steepedin crime, and so forth, and think nothing of pinching diamond necklaces. If you're not, you'll understand that I felt a lot less keen on the jobI'd taken on when I sat in my room, waiting to get busy, than I had donewhen I promised to tackle it in the dining-room. On paper it all seemedeasy enough, but I couldn't help feeling there was a catch somewhere, and I've never known time pass slower. The kick-off was scheduled forone o'clock in the morning, when the household might be expected to bepretty sound asleep, but at a quarter to I couldn't stand it any longer. I lit the lantern I had taken from Bill's bicycle, took a grip of myknife, and slunk downstairs. 

The first thing I did on getting to the dining-room was to open thewindow. I had half a mind to smash it, so as to give an extra bit oflocal colour to the affair, but decided not to on account of the noise. I had put my lantern on the table, and was just reaching out for it, when something happened. What it was for the moment I couldn't havesaid. It might have been an explosion of some sort or an earthquake. Some solid object caught me a frightful whack on the chin. Sparks andthings occurred inside my head and the next thing I remember is feelingsomething wet and cold splash into my face, and hearing a voice thatsounded like old Bill's say, "Feeling better now?"

I sat up. The lights were on, and I was on the floor, with old Billkneeling beside me with a soda siphon. 

"What happened?" I said. 

"I'm awfully sorry, old man, " he said. "I hadn't a notion it was you. Icame in here, and saw a lantern on the table, and the window open and achap with a knife in his hand, so I didn't stop to make inquiries. Ijust let go at his jaw for all I was worth. What on earth do you thinkyou're doing? Were you walking in your sleep?"

"It was Elizabeth, " I said. "Why, you know all about it. She said shehad told you. "

"You don't mean----"

"The picture. You refused to take it on, so she asked me. "

"Reggie, old man, " he said. "I'll never believe what they say aboutrepentance again. It's a fool's trick and upsets everything. If Ihadn't repented, and thought it was rather rough on Elizabeth not todo a little thing like that for her, and come down here to do it afterall, you wouldn't have stopped that sleep-producer with your chin. I'msorry. "

"Me, too, " I said, giving my head another shake to make certain it wasstill on. 

"Are you feeling better now?"

"Better than I was. But that's not saying much. "

"Would you like some more soda-water? No? Well, how about getting thisjob finished and going to bed? And let's be quick about it too. You madea noise like a ton of bricks when you went down just now, and it's onthe cards some of the servants may have heard. Toss you who carves. "

"Heads. "

"Tails it is, " he said, uncovering the coin. "Up you get. I'll hold thelight. Don't spike yourself on that sword of yours. "

It was as easy a job as Elizabeth had said. Just four quick cuts, andthe thing came out of its frame like an oyster. I rolled it up. OldBill had put the lantern on the floor and was at the sideboard, collecting whisky, soda, and glasses. 

"We've got a long evening before us, " he said. "You can't burn a pictureof that size in one chunk. You'd set the chimney on fire. Let's do thething comfortably. Clarence can't grudge us the stuff. We've done hima bit of good this trip. To-morrow'll be the maddest, merriest day ofClarence's glad New Year. On we go. "

We went up to my room, and sat smoking and yarning away and sipping ourdrinks, and every now and then cutting a slice off the picture andshoving it in the fire till it was all gone. And what with the cosinessof it and the cheerful blaze, and the comfortable feeling of doing goodby stealth, I don't know when I've had a jollier time since the dayswhen we used to brew in my study at school. 

We had just put the last slice on when Bill sat up suddenly, andgripped my arm. 

"I heard something, " he said. 

I listened, and, by Jove, I heard something, too. My room was just overthe dining-room, and the sound came up to us quite distinctly. Stealthyfootsteps, by George! And then a chair falling over. 

"There's somebody in the dining-room, " I whispered. 

There's a certain type of chap who takes a pleasure in positivelychivvying trouble. Old Bill's like that. If I had been alone, it wouldhave taken me about three seconds to persuade myself that I hadn'treally heard anything after all. I'm a peaceful sort of cove, andbelieve in living and letting live, and so forth. To old Bill, however, a visit from burglars was pure jam. He was out of his chair in onejump. 

"Come on, " he said. "Bring the poker. "

I brought the tongs as well. I felt like it. Old Bill collared theknife. We crept downstairs. 

"We'll fling the door open and make a rush, " said Bill. 

"Supposing they shoot, old scout?"

"Burglars never shoot, " said Bill. 

Which was comforting provided the burglars knew it. 

Old Bill took a grip of the handle, turned it quickly, and in he went. And then we pulled up sharp, staring. 

The room was in darkness except for a feeble splash of light at thenear end. Standing on a chair in front of Clarence's "Jocund Spring, "holding a candle in one hand and reaching up with a knife in the other, was old Mr. Yeardsley, in bedroom slippers and a grey dressing-gown. Hehad made a final cut just as we rushed in. Turning at the sound, hestopped, and he and the chair and the candle and the picture came downin a heap together. The candle went out. 

"What on earth?" said Bill. 

I felt the same. I picked up the candle and lit it, and then a mostfearful thing happened. The old man picked himself up, and suddenlycollapsed into a chair and began to cry like a child. Of course, Icould see it was only the Artistic Temperament, but still, believe me, it was devilish unpleasant. I looked at old Bill. Old Bill looked atme. We shut the door quick, and after that we didn't know what to do. Isaw Bill look at the sideboard, and I knew what he was looking for. Butwe had taken the siphon upstairs, and his ideas of first-aid stoppedshort at squirting soda-water. We just waited, and presently oldYeardsley switched off, sat up, and began talking with a rush. 

"Clarence, my boy, I was tempted. It was that burglary at Dryden Park. It tempted me. It made it all so simple. I knew you would put it downto the same gang, Clarence, my boy. I----"

It seemed to dawn upon him at this point that Clarence was not amongthose present. 

"Clarence?" he said hesitatingly. 

"He's in bed, " I said. 

"In bed! Then he doesn't know? Even now--Young men, I throw myselfon your mercy. Don't be hard on me. Listen. " He grabbed at Bill, whosidestepped. "I can explain everything--everything. "

He gave a gulp. 

"You are not artists, you two young men, but I will try to make youunderstand, make you realise what this picture means to me. I was twoyears painting it. It is my child. I watched it grow. I loved it. Itwas part of my life. Nothing would have induced me to sell it. And thenClarence married, and in a mad moment I gave my treasure to him. Youcannot understand, you two young men, what agonies I suffered. Thething was done. It was irrevocable. I saw how Clarence valued thepicture. I knew that I could never bring myself to ask him for it back. And yet I was lost without it. What could I do? Till this evening Icould see no hope. Then came this story of the theft of the Romney froma house quite close to this, and I saw my way. Clarence would neversuspect. He would put the robbery down to the same band of criminalswho stole the Romney. Once the idea had come, I could not drive it out. I fought against it, but to no avail. At last I yielded, and crept downhere to carry out my plan. You found me. " He grabbed again, at me thistime, and got me by the arm. He had a grip like a lobster. "Young man, "he said, "you would not betray me? You would not tell Clarence?"

I was feeling most frightfully sorry for the poor old chap by thistime, don't you know, but I thought it would be kindest to give it himstraight instead of breaking it by degrees. 

"I won't say a word to Clarence, Mr. Yeardsley, " I said. "I quiteunderstand your feelings. The Artistic Temperament, and all that sortof thing. I mean--what? _I_ know. But I'm afraid--Well, look!"

I went to the door and switched on the electric light, and there, staring him in the face, were the two empty frames. He stood gogglingat them in silence. Then he gave a sort of wheezy grunt. 

"The gang! The burglars! They _have_ been here, and they havetaken Clarence's picture!" He paused. "It might have been mine! MyVenus!" he whispered It was getting most fearfully painful, you know, but he had to know the truth. 

"I'm awfully sorry, you know, " I said. "But it _was_. "

He started, poor old chap. 

"Eh? What do you mean?"

"They _did_ take your Venus. "

"But I have it here. "

I shook my head. 

"That's Clarence's 'Jocund Spring, '" I said. 

He jumped at it and straightened it out. 

"What! What are you talking about? Do you think I don't know my ownpicture--my child--my Venus. See! My own signature in the corner. Canyou read, boy? Look: 'Matthew Yeardsley. ' This is _my_ picture!"

And--well, by Jove, it _was_, don't you know!

 * * * * *

Well, we got him off to bed, him and his infernal Venus, and we settleddown to take a steady look at the position of affairs. Bill said it wasmy fault for getting hold of the wrong picture, and I said it was Bill'sfault for fetching me such a crack on the jaw that I couldn't be expectedto see what I was getting hold of, and then there was a pretty massivesilence for a bit. 

"Reggie, " said Bill at last, "how exactly do you feel about facingClarence and Elizabeth at breakfast?"

"Old scout, " I said. "I was thinking much the same myself. "

"Reggie, " said Bill, "I happen to know there's a milk-train leavingMidford at three-fifteen. It isn't what you'd call a flier. It gets toLondon at about half-past nine. Well--er--in the circumstances, howabout it?"

THE AUNT AND THE SLUGGARD

Now that it's all over, I may as well admit that there was a timeduring the rather funny affair of Rockmetteller Todd when I thoughtthat Jeeves was going to let me down. The man had the appearance ofbeing baffled. 

Jeeves is my man, you know. Officially he pulls in his weekly wagesfor pressing my clothes and all that sort of thing; but actually he'smore like what the poet Johnnie called some bird of his acquaintance whowas apt to rally round him in times of need--a guide, don't you know;philosopher, if I remember rightly, and--I rather fancy--friend. I relyon him at every turn. 

So naturally, when Rocky Todd told me about his aunt, I didn'thesitate. Jeeves was in on the thing from the start. 

The affair of Rocky Todd broke loose early one morning of spring. I wasin bed, restoring the good old tissues with about nine hours of thedreamless, when the door flew open and somebody prodded me in the lowerribs and began to shake the bedclothes. After blinking a bit andgenerally pulling myself together, I located Rocky, and my firstimpression was that it was some horrid dream. 

Rocky, you see, lived down on Long Island somewhere, miles away fromNew York; and not only that, but he had told me himself more than oncethat he never got up before twelve, and seldom earlier than one. Constitutionally the laziest young devil in America, he had hit on awalk in life which enabled him to go the limit in that direction. Hewas a poet. At least, he wrote poems when he did anything; but most ofhis time, as far as I could make out, he spent in a sort of trance. Hetold me once that he could sit on a fence, watching a worm andwondering what on earth it was up to, for hours at a stretch. 

He had his scheme of life worked out to a fine point. About once amonth he would take three days writing a few poems; the other threehundred and twenty-nine days of the year he rested. I didn't know therewas enough money in poetry to support a chappie, even in the way inwhich Rocky lived; but it seems that, if you stick to exhortations toyoung men to lead the strenuous life and don't shove in any rhymes, American editors fight for the stuff. Rocky showed me one of his thingsonce. It began:

 Be! Be! The past is dead. To-morrow is not born. Be to-day! To-day! Be with every nerve, With every muscle, With every drop of your red blood! Be!

It was printed opposite the frontispiece of a magazine with a sort ofscroll round it, and a picture in the middle of a fairly-nude chappie, with bulging muscles, giving the rising sun the glad eye. Rocky saidthey gave him a hundred dollars for it, and he stayed in bed till fourin the afternoon for over a month. 

As regarded the future he was pretty solid, owing to the fact that hehad a moneyed aunt tucked away somewhere in Illinois; and, as he hadbeen named Rockmetteller after her, and was her only nephew, hisposition was pretty sound. He told me that when he did come into themoney he meant to do no work at all, except perhaps an occasional poemrecommending the young man with life opening out before him, with allits splendid possibilities, to light a pipe and shove his feet upon themantelpiece. 

And this was the man who was prodding me in the ribs in the grey dawn!

"Read this, Bertie!" I could just see that he was waving a letter orsomething equally foul in my face. "Wake up and read this!"

I can't read before I've had my morning tea and a cigarette. I gropedfor the bell. 

Jeeves came in looking as fresh as a dewy violet. It's a mystery to mehow he does it. 

"Tea, Jeeves. "

"Very good, sir. "

He flowed silently out of the room--he always gives you the impressionof being some liquid substance when he moves; and I found that Rockywas surging round with his beastly letter again. 

"What is it?" I said. "What on earth's the matter?"

"Read it!"

"I can't. I haven't had my tea. "

"Well, listen then. "

"Who's it from?"

"My aunt. "

At this point I fell asleep again. I woke to hear him saying:

"So what on earth am I to do?"

Jeeves trickled in with the tray, like some silent stream meanderingover its mossy bed; and I saw daylight. 

"Read it again, Rocky, old top, " I said. "I want Jeeves to hear it. Mr. Todd's aunt has written him a rather rummy letter, Jeeves, and we wantyour advice. "

"Very good, sir. "

He stood in the middle of the room, registering devotion to the cause, and Rocky started again:

 "MY DEAR ROCKMETTELLER. --I have been thinking things over for a long while, and I have come to the conclusion that I have been very thoughtless to wait so long before doing what I have made up my mind to do now. "

"What do you make of that, Jeeves?"

"It seems a little obscure at present, sir, but no doubt it becomescleared at a later point in the communication. "

"It becomes as clear as mud!" said Rocky. 

"Proceed, old scout, " I said, champing my bread and butter. 

 "You know how all my life I have longed to visit New York and see for myself the wonderful gay life of which I have read so much. I fear that now it will be impossible for me to fulfil my dream. I am old and worn out. I seem to have no strength left in me. "

"Sad, Jeeves, what?"

"Extremely, sir. "

"Sad nothing!" said Rocky. "It's sheer laziness. I went to see her lastChristmas and she was bursting with health. Her doctor told me himselfthat there was nothing wrong with her whatever. But she will insistthat she's a hopeless invalid, so he has to agree with her. She's got afixed idea that the trip to New York would kill her; so, though it'sbeen her ambition all her life to come here, she stays where she is. "

"Rather like the chappie whose heart was 'in the Highlands a-chasing ofthe deer, ' Jeeves?"

"The cases are in some respects parallel, sir. "

"Carry on, Rocky, dearboy. "

 "So I have decided that, if I cannot enjoy all the marvels of the city myself, I can at least enjoy them through you. I suddenly thought of this yesterday after reading a beautiful poem in the Sunday paper about a young man who had longed all his life for a certain thing and won it in the end only when he was too old to enjoy it. It was very sad, and it touched me. "

"A thing, " interpolated Rocky bitterly, "that I've not been able to doin ten years. "

 "As you know, you will have my money when I am gone; but until now I have never been able to see my way to giving you an allowance. I have now decided to do so--on one condition. I have written to a firm of lawyers in New York, giving them instructions to pay you quite a substantial sum each month. My one condition is that you live in New York and enjoy yourself as I have always wished to do. I want you to be my representative, to spend this money for me as I should do myself. I want you to plunge into the gay, prismatic life of New York. I want you to be the life and soul of brilliant supper parties. 

 "Above all, I want you--indeed, I insist on this--to write me letters at least once a week giving me a full description of all you are doing and all that is going on in the city, so that I may enjoy at second-hand what my wretched health prevents my enjoying for myself. Remember that I shall expect full details, and that no detail is too trivial to interest. --Your affectionate Aunt, "ISABEL ROCKMETTELLER. "

"What about it?" said Rocky. 

"What about it?" I said. 

"Yes. What on earth am I going to do?"

It was only then that I really got on to the extremely rummy attitudeof the chappie, in view of the fact that a quite unexpected mess of theright stuff had suddenly descended on him from a blue sky. To my mindit was an occasion for the beaming smile and the joyous whoop; yet herethe man was, looking and talking as if Fate had swung on his solarplexus. It amazed me. 

"Aren't you bucked?" I said. 

"Bucked!"

"If I were in your place I should be frightfully braced. I considerthis pretty soft for you. "

He gave a kind of yelp, stared at me for a moment, and then began totalk of New York in a way that reminded me of Jimmy Mundy, the reformerchappie. Jimmy had just come to New York on a hit-the-trail campaign, and I had popped in at the Garden a couple of days before, for half anhour or so, to hear him. He had certainly told New York some prettystraight things about itself, having apparently taken a dislike to theplace, but, by Jove, you know, dear old Rocky made him look like apublicity agent for the old metrop. !

"Pretty soft!" he cried. "To have to come and live in New York! To haveto leave my little cottage and take a stuffy, smelly, over-heated holeof an apartment in this Heaven-forsaken, festering Gehenna. To have tomix night after night with a mob who think that life is a sort of St. Vitus's dance, and imagine that they're having a good time becausethey're making enough noise for six and drinking too much for ten. Iloathe New York, Bertie. I wouldn't come near the place if I hadn't gotto see editors occasionally. There's a blight on it. It's got moraldelirium tremens. It's the limit. The very thought of staying more thana day in it makes me sick. And you call this thing pretty soft for me!"

I felt rather like Lot's friends must have done when they dropped infor a quiet chat and their genial host began to criticise the Cities ofthe Plain. I had no idea old Rocky could be so eloquent. 

"It would kill me to have to live in New York, " he went on. "To have toshare the air with six million people! To have to wear stiff collarsand decent clothes all the time! To----" He started. "Good Lord! Isuppose I should have to dress for dinner in the evenings. What aghastly notion!"

I was shocked, absolutely shocked. 

"My dear chap!" I said reproachfully. 

"Do you dress for dinner every night, Bertie?"

"Jeeves, " I said coldly. The man was still standing like a statue bythe door. "How many suits of evening clothes have I?"

"We have three suits full of evening dress, sir; two dinner jackets----"

"Three. "

"For practical purposes two only, sir. If you remember we cannot wearthe third. We have also seven white waistcoats. "

"And shirts?"

"Four dozen, sir. "

"And white ties?"

"The first two shallow shelves in the chest of drawers are completelyfilled with our white ties, sir. "

I turned to Rocky. 

"You see?"

The chappie writhed like an electric fan. 

"I won't do it! I can't do it! I'll be hanged if I'll do it! How onearth can I dress up like that? Do you realize that most days I don'tget out of my pyjamas till five in the afternoon, and then I just puton an old sweater?"

I saw Jeeves wince, poor chap! This sort of revelation shocked hisfinest feelings. 

"Then, what are you going to do about it?" I said. 

"That's what I want to know. "

"You might write and explain to your aunt. "

"I might--if I wanted her to get round to her lawyer's in two rapidleaps and cut me out of her will. "

I saw his point. 

"What do you suggest, Jeeves?" I said. 

Jeeves cleared his throat respectfully. 

"The crux of the matter would appear to be, sir, that Mr. Todd isobliged by the conditions under which the money is delivered into hispossession to write Miss Rockmetteller long and detailed lettersrelating to his movements, and the only method by which this can beaccomplished, if Mr. Todd adheres to his expressed intention ofremaining in the country, is for Mr. Todd to induce some second partyto gather the actual experiences which Miss Rockmetteller wishesreported to her, and to convey these to him in the shape of a carefulreport, on which it would be possible for him, with the aid of hisimagination, to base the suggested correspondence. "

Having got which off the old diaphragm, Jeeves was silent. Rocky lookedat me in a helpless sort of way. He hasn't been brought up on Jeeves asI have, and he isn't on to his curves. 

"Could he put it a little clearer, Bertie?" he said. "I thought at thestart it was going to make sense, but it kind of flickered. What's theidea?"

"My dear old man, perfectly simple. I knew we could stand on Jeeves. All you've got to do is to get somebody to go round the town for youand take a few notes, and then you work the notes up into letters. That's it, isn't it, Jeeves?"

"Precisely, sir. "

The light of hope gleamed in Rocky's eyes. He looked at Jeeves in astartled way, dazed by the man's vast intellect. 

"But who would do it?" he said. "It would have to be a pretty smartsort of man, a man who would notice things. "

"Jeeves!" I said. "Let Jeeves do it. "

"But would he?"

"You would do it, wouldn't you, Jeeves?"

For the first time in our long connection I observed Jeeves almostsmile. The corner of his mouth curved quite a quarter of an inch, andfor a moment his eye ceased to look like a meditative fish's. 

"I should be delighted to oblige, sir. As a matter of fact, I havealready visited some of New York's places of interest on my eveningout, and it would be most enjoyable to make a practice of the pursuit. "

"Fine! I know exactly what your aunt wants to hear about, Rocky. Shewants an earful of cabaret stuff. The place you ought to go to first, Jeeves, is Reigelheimer's. It's on Forty-second Street. Anybody willshow you the way. "

Jeeves shook his head. 

"Pardon me, sir. People are no longer going to Reigelheimer's. Theplace at the moment is Frolics on the Roof. "

"You see?" I said to Rocky. "Leave it to Jeeves. He knows. "

It isn't often that you find an entire group of your fellow-humanshappy in this world; but our little circle was certainly an example ofthe fact that it can be done. We were all full of beans. Everythingwent absolutely right from the start. 

Jeeves was happy, partly because he loves to exercise his giant brain, and partly because he was having a corking time among the bright lights. I saw him one night at the Midnight Revels. He was sitting at a tableon the edge of the dancing floor, doing himself remarkably well with afat cigar and a bottle of the best. I'd never imagined he could look sonearly human. His face wore an expression of austere benevolence, and hewas making notes in a small book. 

As for the rest of us, I was feeling pretty good, because I was fondof old Rocky and glad to be able to do him a good turn. Rocky wasperfectly contented, because he was still able to sit on fences in hispyjamas and watch worms. And, as for the aunt, she seemed tickled todeath. She was getting Broadway at pretty long range, but it seemed tobe hitting her just right. I read one of her letters to Rocky, and itwas full of life. 

But then Rocky's letters, based on Jeeves's notes, were enough to buckanybody up. It was rummy when you came to think of it. There was I, loving the life, while the mere mention of it gave Rocky a tiredfeeling; yet here is a letter I wrote to a pal of mine in London:

 "DEAR FREDDIE, --Well, here I am in New York. It's not a bad place. I'm not having a bad time. Everything's pretty all right. The cabarets aren't bad. Don't know when I shall be back. How's everybody? Cheer-o!--Yours, "BERTIE. 

 "PS. --Seen old Ted lately?"

Not that I cared about Ted; but if I hadn't dragged him in I couldn'thave got the confounded thing on to the second page. 

Now here's old Rocky on exactly the same subject:

 "DEAREST AUNT ISABEL, --How can I ever thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to live in this astounding city! New York seems more wonderful every day. 

 "Fifth Avenue is at its best, of course, just now. The dresses are magnificent!"

Wads of stuff about the dresses. I didn't know Jeeves was such anauthority. 

 "I was out with some of the crowd at the Midnight Revels the other night. We took in a show first, after a little dinner at a new place on Forty-third Street. We were quite a gay party. Georgie Cohan looked in about midnight and got off a good one about Willie Collier. Fred Stone could only stay a minute, but Doug. Fairbanks did all sorts of stunts and made us roar. Diamond Jim Brady was there, as usual, and Laurette Taylor showed up with a party. The show at the Revels is quite good. I am enclosing a programme. 

 "Last night a few of us went round to Frolics on the Roof----"

And so on and so forth, yards of it. I suppose it's the artistictemperament or something. What I mean is, it's easier for a chappiewho's used to writing poems and that sort of tosh to put a bit of apunch into a letter than it is for a chappie like me. Anyway, there'sno doubt that Rocky's correspondence was hot stuff. I called Jeeves inand congratulated him. 

"Jeeves, you're a wonder!"

"Thank you, sir. "

"How you notice everything at these places beats me. I couldn't tellyou a thing about them, except that I've had a good time. "

"It's just a knack, sir. "

"Well, Mr. Todd's letters ought to brace Miss Rockmetteller all right, what?"

"Undoubtedly, sir, " agreed Jeeves. 

And, by Jove, they did! They certainly did, by George! What I mean tosay is, I was sitting in the apartment one afternoon, about a monthafter the thing had started, smoking a cigarette and resting the oldbean, when the door opened and the voice of Jeeves burst the silencelike a bomb. 

It wasn't that he spoke loud. He has one of those soft, soothing voicesthat slide through the atmosphere like the note of a far-off sheep. Itwas what he said made me leap like a young gazelle. 

"Miss Rockmetteller!"

And in came a large, solid female. 

The situation floored me. I'm not denying it. Hamlet must have feltmuch as I did when his father's ghost bobbed up in the fairway. I'dcome to look on Rocky's aunt as such a permanency at her own home thatit didn't seem possible that she could really be here in New York. Istared at her. Then I looked at Jeeves. He was standing there in anattitude of dignified detachment, the chump, when, if ever he shouldhave been rallying round the young master, it was now. 

Rocky's aunt looked less like an invalid than any one I've ever seen, except my Aunt Agatha. She had a good deal of Aunt Agatha about her, asa matter of fact. She looked as if she might be deucedly dangerous ifput upon; and something seemed to tell me that she would certainlyregard herself as put upon if she ever found out the game which poorold Rocky had been pulling on her. 

"Good afternoon, " I managed to say. 

"How do you do?" she said. "Mr. Cohan?"

"Er--no. "

"Mr. Fred Stone?"

"Not absolutely. As a matter of fact, my name's Wooster--BertieWooster. "

She seemed disappointed. The fine old name of Wooster appeared to meannothing in her life. 

"Isn't Rockmetteller home?" she said. "Where is he?"

She had me with the first shot. I couldn't think of anything to say. Icouldn't tell her that Rocky was down in the country, watching worms. 

There was the faintest flutter of sound in the background. It was therespectful cough with which Jeeves announces that he is about to speakwithout having been spoken to. 

"If you remember, sir, Mr. Todd went out in the automobile with a partyin the afternoon. "

"So he did, Jeeves; so he did, " I said, looking at my watch. "Did hesay when he would be back?"

"He gave me to understand, sir, that he would be somewhat late inreturning. "

He vanished; and the aunt took the chair which I'd forgotten to offerher. She looked at me in rather a rummy way. It was a nasty look. Itmade me feel as if I were something the dog had brought in and intendedto bury later on, when he had time. My own Aunt Agatha, back in England, has looked at me in exactly the same way many a time, and it never failsto make my spine curl. 

"You seem very much at home here, young man. Are you a great friend ofRockmetteller's?"

"Oh, yes, rather!"

She frowned as if she had expected better things of old Rocky. 

"Well, you need to be, " she said, "the way you treat his flat as yourown!"

I give you my word, this quite unforeseen slam simply robbed me of thepower of speech. I'd been looking on myself in the light of the dashinghost, and suddenly to be treated as an intruder jarred me. It wasn't, mark you, as if she had spoken in a way to suggest that she consideredmy presence in the place as an ordinary social call. She obviouslylooked on me as a cross between a burglar and the plumber's man cometo fix the leak in the bathroom. It hurt her--my being there. 

At this juncture, with the conversation showing every sign of beingabout to die in awful agonies, an idea came to me. Tea--the good oldstand-by. 

"Would you care for a cup of tea?" I said. 

"Tea?"

She spoke as if she had never heard of the stuff. 

"Nothing like a cup after a journey, " I said. "Bucks you up! Puts a bitof zip into you. What I mean is, restores you, and so on, don't youknow. I'll go and tell Jeeves. "

I tottered down the passage to Jeeves's lair. The man was reading theevening paper as if he hadn't a care in the world. 

"Jeeves, " I said, "we want some tea. "

"Very good, sir. "

"I say, Jeeves, this is a bit thick, what?"

I wanted sympathy, don't you know--sympathy and kindness. The old nervecentres had had the deuce of a shock. 

"She's got the idea this place belongs to Mr. Todd. What on earth putthat into her head?"

Jeeves filled the kettle with a restrained dignity. 

"No doubt because of Mr. Todd's letters, sir, " he said. "It was mysuggestion, sir, if you remember, that they should be addressed fromthis apartment in order that Mr. Todd should appear to possess a goodcentral residence in the city. "

I remembered. We had thought it a brainy scheme at the time. 

"Well, it's bally awkward, you know, Jeeves. She looks on me as anintruder. By Jove! I suppose she thinks I'm someone who hangs abouthere, touching Mr. Todd for free meals and borrowing his shirts. "

"Yes, sir. "

"It's pretty rotten, you know. "

"Most disturbing, sir. "

"And there's another thing: What are we to do about Mr. Todd? We've gotto get him up here as soon as ever we can. When you have brought thetea you had better go out and send him a telegram, telling him to comeup by the next train. "

"I have already done so, sir. I took the liberty of writing the messageand dispatching it by the lift attendant. "

"By Jove, you think of everything, Jeeves!"

"Thank you, sir. A little buttered toast with the tea? Just so, sir. Thank you. "

I went back to the sitting-room. She hadn't moved an inch. She was stillbolt upright on the edge of her chair, gripping her umbrella like ahammer-thrower. She gave me another of those looks as I came in. Therewas no doubt about it; for some reason she had taken a dislike to me. Isuppose because I wasn't George M. Cohan. It was a bit hard on a chap. 

"This is a surprise, what?" I said, after about five minutes' restfulsilence, trying to crank the conversation up again. 

"What is a surprise?"

"Your coming here, don't you know, and so on. "

She raised her eyebrows and drank me in a bit more through her glasses. 

"Why is it surprising that I should visit my only nephew?" she said. 

Put like that, of course, it did seem reasonable. 

"Oh, rather, " I said. "Of course! Certainly. What I mean is----"

Jeeves projected himself into the room with the tea. I was jolly gladto see him. There's nothing like having a bit of business arranged forone when one isn't certain of one's lines. With the teapot to foolabout with I felt happier. 

"Tea, tea, tea--what? What?" I said. 

It wasn't what I had meant to say. My idea had been to be a good dealmore formal, and so on. Still, it covered the situation. I poured herout a cup. She sipped it and put the cup down with a shudder. 

"Do you mean to say, young man, " she said frostily, "that you expect meto drink this stuff?"

"Rather! Bucks you up, you know. "

"What do you mean by the expression 'Bucks you up'?"

"Well, makes you full of beans, you know. Makes you fizz. "

"I don't understand a word you say. You're English, aren't you?"

I admitted it. She didn't say a word. And somehow she did it in a waythat made it worse than if she had spoken for hours. Somehow it wasbrought home to me that she didn't like Englishmen, and that if she hadhad to meet an Englishman, I was the one she'd have chosen last. 

Conversation languished again after that. 

Then I tried again. I was becoming more convinced every moment that youcan't make a real lively _salon_ with a couple of people, especially if one of them lets it go a word at a time. 

"Are you comfortable at your hotel?" I said. 

"At which hotel?"

"The hotel you're staying at. "

"I am not staying at an hotel. "

"Stopping with friends--what?"

"I am naturally stopping with my nephew. "

I didn't get it for the moment; then it hit me. 

"What! Here?" I gurgled. 

"Certainly! Where else should I go?"

The full horror of the situation rolled over me like a wave. I couldn'tsee what on earth I was to do. I couldn't explain that this wasn'tRocky's flat without giving the poor old chap away hopelessly, becauseshe would then ask me where he did live, and then he would be right inthe soup. I was trying to induce the old bean to recover from the shockand produce some results when she spoke again. 

"Will you kindly tell my nephew's man-servant to prepare my room? Iwish to lie down. "

"Your nephew's man-servant?"

"The man you call Jeeves. If Rockmetteller has gone for an automobileride, there is no need for you to wait for him. He will naturally wishto be alone with me when he returns. "

I found myself tottering out of the room. The thing was too much forme. I crept into Jeeves's den. 

"Jeeves!" I whispered. 

"Sir?"

"Mix me a b. -and-s. , Jeeves. I feel weak. "

"Very good, sir. "

"This is getting thicker every minute, Jeeves. "

"Sir?"

"She thinks you're Mr. Todd's man. She thinks the whole place is his, and everything in it. I don't see what you're to do, except stay on andkeep it up. We can't say anything or she'll get on to the whole thing, and I don't want to let Mr. Todd down. By the way, Jeeves, she wantsyou to prepare her bed. "

He looked wounded. 

"It is hardly my place, sir----"

"I know--I know. But do it as a personal favour to me. If you come tothat, it's hardly my place to be flung out of the flat like this andhave to go to an hotel, what?"

"Is it your intention to go to an hotel, sir? What will you do forclothes?"

"Good Lord! I hadn't thought of that. Can you put a few things in a bagwhen she isn't looking, and sneak them down to me at the St. Aurea?"

"I will endeavour to do so, sir. "

"Well, I don't think there's anything more, is there? Tell Mr. Toddwhere I am when he gets here. "

"Very good, sir. "

I looked round the place. The moment of parting had come. I felt sad. The whole thing reminded me of one of those melodramas where they drivechappies out of the old homestead into the snow. 

"Good-bye, Jeeves, " I said. 

"Good-bye, sir. "

And I staggered out. 

 * * * * *

You know, I rather think I agree with those poet-and-philosopherJohnnies who insist that a fellow ought to be devilish pleased if hehas a bit of trouble. All that stuff about being refined by suffering, you know. Suffering does give a chap a sort of broader and moresympathetic outlook. It helps you to understand other people'smisfortunes if you've been through the same thing yourself. 

As I stood in my lonely bedroom at the hotel, trying to tie my whitetie myself, it struck me for the first time that there must be wholesquads of chappies in the world who had to get along without a man tolook after them. I'd always thought of Jeeves as a kind of naturalphenomenon; but, by Jove! of course, when you come to think of it, there must be quite a lot of fellows who have to press their ownclothes themselves and haven't got anybody to bring them tea in themorning, and so on. It was rather a solemn thought, don't you know. Imean to say, ever since then I've been able to appreciate the frightfulprivations the poor have to stick. 

I got dressed somehow. Jeeves hadn't forgotten a thing in his packing. Everything was there, down to the final stud. I'm not sure this didn'tmake me feel worse. It kind of deepened the pathos. It was like whatsomebody or other wrote about the touch of a vanished hand. 

I had a bit of dinner somewhere and went to a show of some kind; butnothing seemed to make any difference. I simply hadn't the heart to goon to supper anywhere. I just sucked down a whisky-and-soda in thehotel smoking-room and went straight up to bed. I don't know when I'vefelt so rotten. Somehow I found myself moving about the room softly, asif there had been a death in the family. If I had anybody to talk to Ishould have talked in a whisper; in fact, when the telephone-bell rangI answered in such a sad, hushed voice that the fellow at the other endof the wire said "Halloa!" five times, thinking he hadn't got me. 

It was Rocky. The poor old scout was deeply agitated. 

"Bertie! Is that you, Bertie! Oh, gosh? I'm having a time!"

"Where are you speaking from?"

"The Midnight Revels. We've been here an hour, and I think we're afixture for the night. I've told Aunt Isabel I've gone out to call up afriend to join us. She's glued to a chair, with this-is-the-lifewritten all over her, taking it in through the pores. She loves it, andI'm nearly crazy. "

"Tell me all, old top, " I said. 

"A little more of this, " he said, "and I shall sneak quietly off to theriver and end it all. Do you mean to say you go through this sort ofthing every night, Bertie, and enjoy it? It's simply infernal! I wasjust snatching a wink of sleep behind the bill of fare just now whenabout a million yelling girls swooped down, with toy balloons. Thereare two orchestras here, each trying to see if it can't play louderthan the other. I'm a mental and physical wreck. When your telegramarrived I was just lying down for a quiet pipe, with a sense ofabsolute peace stealing over me. I had to get dressed and sprint twomiles to catch the train. It nearly gave me heart-failure; and on topof that I almost got brain fever inventing lies to tell Aunt Isabel. And then I had to cram myself into these confounded evening clothes ofyours. "

I gave a sharp wail of agony. It hadn't struck me till then that Rockywas depending on my wardrobe to see him through. 

"You'll ruin them!"

"I hope so, " said Rocky, in the most unpleasant way. His troublesseemed to have had the worst effect on his character. "I should like toget back at them somehow; they've given me a bad enough time. They'reabout three sizes too small, and something's apt to give at any moment. I wish to goodness it would, and give me a chance to breathe. I haven'tbreathed since half-past seven. Thank Heaven, Jeeves managed to get outand buy me a collar that fitted, or I should be a strangled corpse bynow! It was touch and go till the stud broke. Bertie, this is pureHades! Aunt Isabel keeps on urging me to dance. How on earth can Idance when I don't know a soul to dance with? And how the deuce couldI, even if I knew every girl in the place? It's taking big chances evento move in these trousers. I had to tell her I've hurt my ankle. Shekeeps asking me when Cohan and Stone are going to turn up; and it'ssimply a question of time before she discovers that Stone is sittingtwo tables away. Something's got to be done, Bertie! You've got tothink up some way of getting me out of this mess. It was you who got meinto it. "

"Me! What do you mean?"

"Well, Jeeves, then. It's all the same. It was you who suggestedleaving it to Jeeves. It was those letters I wrote from his notes thatdid the mischief. I made them too good! My aunt's just been telling meabout it. She says she had resigned herself to ending her life whereshe was, and then my letters began to arrive, describing the joys ofNew York; and they stimulated her to such an extent that she pulledherself together and made the trip. She seems to think she's had somemiraculous kind of faith cure. I tell you I can't stand it, Bertie!It's got to end!"

"Can't Jeeves think of anything?"

"No. He just hangs round saying: 'Most disturbing, sir!' A fat lot ofhelp that is!"

"Well, old lad, " I said, "after all, it's far worse for me than it isfor you. You've got a comfortable home and Jeeves. And you're saving alot of money. "

"Saving money? What do you mean--saving money?"

"Why, the allowance your aunt was giving you. I suppose she's payingall the expenses now, isn't she?"

"Certainly she is; but she's stopped the allowance. She wrote thelawyers to-night. She says that, now she's in New York, there is nonecessity for it to go on, as we shall always be together, and it'ssimpler for her to look after that end of it. I tell you, Bertie, I'veexamined the darned cloud with a microscope, and if it's got a silverlining it's some little dissembler!"

"But, Rocky, old top, it's too bally awful! You've no notion of whatI'm going through in this beastly hotel, without Jeeves. I must getback to the flat. "

"Don't come near the flat. "

"But it's my own flat. "

"I can't help that. Aunt Isabel doesn't like you. She asked me what youdid for a living. And when I told her you didn't do anything she saidshe thought as much, and that you were a typical specimen of a uselessand decaying aristocracy. So if you think you have made a hit, forgetit. Now I must be going back, or she'll be coming out here after me. Good-bye. "

 * * * * *

Next morning Jeeves came round. It was all so home-like when he floatednoiselessly into the room that I nearly broke down. 

"Good morning, sir, " he said. "I have brought a few more of yourpersonal belongings. "

He began to unstrap the suit-case he was carrying. 

"Did you have any trouble sneaking them away?"

"It was not easy, sir. I had to watch my chance. Miss Rockmetteller isa remarkably alert lady. "

"You know, Jeeves, say what you like--this is a bit thick, isn't it?"

"The situation is certainly one that has never before come under mynotice, sir. I have brought the heather-mixture suit, as the climaticconditions are congenial. To-morrow, if not prevented, I will endeavourto add the brown lounge with the faint green twill. "

"It can't go on--this sort of thing--Jeeves. "

"We must hope for the best, sir. "

"Can't you think of anything to do?"

"I have been giving the matter considerable thought, sir, but so farwithout success. I am placing three silk shirts--the dove-coloured, thelight blue, and the mauve--in the first long drawer, sir. "

"You don't mean to say you can't think of anything, Jeeves?"

"For the moment, sir, no. You will find a dozen handkerchiefs and thetan socks in the upper drawer on the left. " He strapped the suit-caseand put it on a chair. "A curious lady, Miss Rockmetteller, sir. "

"You understate it, Jeeves. "

He gazed meditatively out of the window. 

"In many ways, sir, Miss Rockmetteller reminds me of an aunt of minewho resides in the south-east portion of London. Their temperaments aremuch alike. My aunt has the same taste for the pleasures of the greatcity. It is a passion with her to ride in hansom cabs, sir. Wheneverthe family take their eyes off her she escapes from the house andspends the day riding about in cabs. On several occasions she hasbroken into the children's savings bank to secure the means to enableher to gratify this desire. "

"I love to have these little chats with you about your femalerelatives, Jeeves, " I said coldly, for I felt that the man had let medown, and I was fed up with him. "But I don't see what all this has gotto do with my trouble. "

"I beg your pardon, sir. I am leaving a small assortment of neckties onthe mantelpiece, sir, for you to select according to your preference. Ishould recommend the blue with the red domino pattern, sir. "

Then he streamed imperceptibly toward the door and flowed silently out. 

 * * * * *

I've often heard that chappies, after some great shock or loss, have ahabit, after they've been on the floor for a while wondering what hitthem, of picking themselves up and piecing themselves together, andsort of taking a whirl at beginning a new life. Time, the great healer, and Nature, adjusting itself, and so on and so forth. There's a lot init. I know, because in my own case, after a day or two of what youmight call prostration, I began to recover. The frightful loss ofJeeves made any thought of pleasure more or less a mockery, but atleast I found that I was able to have a dash at enjoying life again. What I mean is, I braced up to the extent of going round the cabaretsonce more, so as to try to forget, if only for the moment. 

New York's a small place when it comes to the part of it that wakes upjust as the rest is going to bed, and it wasn't long before my tracksbegan to cross old Rocky's. I saw him once at Peale's, and again atFrolics on the roof. There wasn't anybody with him either time exceptthe aunt, and, though he was trying to look as if he had struck theideal life, it wasn't difficult for me, knowing the circumstances, tosee that beneath the mask the poor chap was suffering. My heart bledfor the fellow. At least, what there was of it that wasn't bleeding formyself bled for him. He had the air of one who was about to crack underthe strain. 

It seemed to me that the aunt was looking slightly upset also. I tookit that she was beginning to wonder when the celebrities were going tosurge round, and what had suddenly become of all those wild, carelessspirits Rocky used to mix with in his letters. I didn't blame her. Ihad only read a couple of his letters, but they certainly gave theimpression that poor old Rocky was by way of being the hub of New Yorknight life, and that, if by any chance he failed to show up at acabaret, the management said: "What's the use?" and put up theshutters. 

The next two nights I didn't come across them, but the night after thatI was sitting by myself at the Maison Pierre when somebody tapped me onthe shoulder-blade, and I found Rocky standing beside me, with a sortof mixed expression of wistfulness and apoplexy on his face. How thechappie had contrived to wear my evening clothes so many times withoutdisaster was a mystery to me. He confided later that early in theproceedings he had slit the waistcoat up the back and that that hadhelped a bit. 

For a moment I had the idea that he had managed to get away from hisaunt for the evening; but, looking past him, I saw that she was inagain. She was at a table over by the wall, looking at me as if I weresomething the management ought to be complained to about. 

"Bertie, old scout, " said Rocky, in a quiet, sort of crushed voice, "we've always been pals, haven't we? I mean, you know I'd do you a goodturn if you asked me?"

"My dear old lad, " I said. The man had moved me. 

"Then, for Heaven's sake, come over and sit at our table for the restof the evening. "

Well, you know, there are limits to the sacred claims of friendship. 

"My dear chap, " I said, "you know I'd do anything in reason; but----"

"You must come, Bertie. You've got to. Something's got to be done todivert her mind. She's brooding about something. She's been like thatfor the last two days. I think she's beginning to suspect. She can'tunderstand why we never seem to meet anyone I know at these joints. Afew nights ago I happened to run into two newspaper men I used to knowfairly well. That kept me going for a while. I introduced them to AuntIsabel as David Belasco and Jim Corbett, and it went well. But the effecthas worn off now, and she's beginning to wonder again. Something's got tobe done, or she will find out everything, and if she does I'd take anickel for my chance of getting a cent from her later on. So, for thelove of Mike, come across to our table and help things along. "

I went along. One has to rally round a pal in distress. Aunt Isabel wassitting bolt upright, as usual. It certainly did seem as if she hadlost a bit of the zest with which she had started out to exploreBroadway. She looked as if she had been thinking a good deal aboutrather unpleasant things. 

"You've met Bertie Wooster, Aunt Isabel?" said Rocky. 

"I have. "

There was something in her eye that seemed to say:

"Out of a city of six million people, why did you pick on me?"

"Take a seat, Bertie. What'll you have?" said Rocky. 

And so the merry party began. It was one of those jolly, happy, bread-crumbling parties where you cough twice before you speak, andthen decide not to say it after all. After we had had an hour of thiswild dissipation, Aunt Isabel said she wanted to go home. In the lightof what Rocky had been telling me, this struck me as sinister. I hadgathered that at the beginning of her visit she had had to be draggedhome with ropes. 

It must have hit Rocky the same way, for he gave me a pleading look. 

"You'll come along, won't you, Bertie, and have a drink at the flat?"

I had a feeling that this wasn't in the contract, but there wasn'tanything to be done. It seemed brutal to leave the poor chap alone withthe woman, so I went along. 

Right from the start, from the moment we stepped into the taxi, thefeeling began to grow that something was about to break loose. Amassive silence prevailed in the corner where the aunt sat, and, though Rocky, balancing himself on the little seat in front, did hisbest to supply dialogue, we weren't a chatty party. 

I had a glimpse of Jeeves as we went into the flat, sitting in hislair, and I wished I could have called to him to rally round. Somethingtold me that I was about to need him. 

The stuff was on the table in the sitting-room. Rocky took up thedecanter. 

"Say when, Bertie. "

"Stop!" barked the aunt, and he dropped it. 

I caught Rocky's eye as he stooped to pick up the ruins. It was the eyeof one who sees it coming. 

"Leave it there, Rockmetteller!" said Aunt Isabel; and Rocky left itthere. 

"The time has come to speak, " she said. "I cannot stand idly by and seea young man going to perdition!"

Poor old Rocky gave a sort of gurgle, a kind of sound rather like thewhisky had made running out of the decanter on to my carpet. 

"Eh?" he said, blinking. 

The aunt proceeded. 

"The fault, " she said, "was mine. I had not then seen the light. Butnow my eyes are open. I see the hideous mistake I have made. I shudderat the thought of the wrong I did you, Rockmetteller, by urging youinto contact with this wicked city. "

I saw Rocky grope feebly for the table. His fingers touched it, and alook of relief came into the poor chappie's face. I understood hisfeelings. 

"But when I wrote you that letter, Rockmetteller, instructing you to goto the city and live its life, I had not had the privilege of hearingMr. Mundy speak on the subject of New York. "

"Jimmy Mundy!" I cried. 

You know how it is sometimes when everything seems all mixed up andyou suddenly get a clue. When she mentioned Jimmy Mundy I began tounderstand more or less what had happened. I'd seen it happen before. I remember, back in England, the man I had before Jeeves sneaked offto a meeting on his evening out and came back and denounced me in frontof a crowd of chappies I was giving a bit of supper to as a moral leper. 

The aunt gave me a withering up and down. 

"Yes; Jimmy Mundy!" she said. "I am surprised at a man of your stamphaving heard of him. There is no music, there are no drunken, dancingmen, no shameless, flaunting women at his meetings; so for you they wouldhave no attraction. But for others, less dead in sin, he has his message. He has come to save New York from itself; to force it--in his picturesquephrase--to hit the trail. It was three days ago, Rockmetteller, that Ifirst heard him. It was an accident that took me to his meeting. Howoften in this life a mere accident may shape our whole future!

"You had been called away by that telephone message from Mr. Belasco;so you could not take me to the Hippodrome, as we had arranged. I askedyour manservant, Jeeves, to take me there. The man has very littleintelligence. He seems to have misunderstood me. I am thankful that hedid. He took me to what I subsequently learned was Madison SquareGarden, where Mr. Mundy is holding his meetings. He escorted me to aseat and then left me. And it was not till the meeting had begun that Idiscovered the mistake which had been made. My seat was in the middleof a row. I could not leave without inconveniencing a great manypeople, so I remained. "

She gulped. 

"Rockmetteller, I have never been so thankful for anything else. Mr. Mundy was wonderful! He was like some prophet of old, scourging thesins of the people. He leaped about in a frenzy of inspiration till Ifeared he would do himself an injury. Sometimes he expressed himself ina somewhat odd manner, but every word carried conviction. He showed meNew York in its true colours. He showed me the vanity and wickedness ofsitting in gilded haunts of vice, eating lobster when decent peopleshould be in bed. 

"He said that the tango and the fox-trot were devices of the devil todrag people down into the Bottomless Pit. He said that there was moresin in ten minutes with a negro banjo orchestra than in all the ancientrevels of Nineveh and Babylon. And when he stood on one leg and pointedright at where I was sitting and shouted, 'This means you!' I couldhave sunk through the floor. I came away a changed woman. Surely youmust have noticed the change in me, Rockmetteller? You must have seenthat I was no longer the careless, thoughtless person who had urged youto dance in those places of wickedness?"

Rocky was holding on to the table as if it was his only friend. 

"Y-yes, " he stammered; "I--I thought something was wrong. "

"Wrong? Something was right! Everything was right! Rockmetteller, it isnot too late for you to be saved. You have only sipped of the evil cup. You have not drained it. It will be hard at first, but you will findthat you can do it if you fight with a stout heart against the glamourand fascination of this dreadful city. Won't you, for my sake, try, Rockmetteller? Won't you go back to the country to-morrow and begin thestruggle? Little by little, if you use your will----"

I can't help thinking it must have been that word "will" that rouseddear old Rocky like a trumpet call. It must have brought home to himthe realisation that a miracle had come off and saved him from beingcut out of Aunt Isabel's. At any rate, as she said it he perked up, letgo of the table, and faced her with gleaming eyes. 

"Do you want me to go back to the country, Aunt Isabel?"

"Yes. "

"Not to live in the country?"

"Yes, Rockmetteller. "

"Stay in the country all the time, do you mean? Never come to NewYork?"

"Yes, Rockmetteller; I mean just that. It is the only way. Only therecan you be safe from temptation. Will you do it, Rockmetteller? Willyou--for my sake?"

Rocky grabbed the table again. He seemed to draw a lot of encouragementfrom that table. 

"I will!" he said. 

 * * * * *

"Jeeves, " I said. It was next day, and I was back in the old flat, lyingin the old arm-chair, with my feet upon the good old table. I had justcome from seeing dear old Rocky off to his country cottage, and an hourbefore he had seen his aunt off to whatever hamlet it was that she wasthe curse of; so we were alone at last. "Jeeves, there's no place likehome--what?"

"Very true, sir. "

"The jolly old roof-tree, and all that sort of thing--what?"

"Precisely, sir. "

I lit another cigarette. 

"Jeeves. "

"Sir?"

"Do you know, at one point in the business I really thought you werebaffled. "

"Indeed, sir?"

"When did you get the idea of taking Miss Rockmetteller to the meeting?It was pure genius!"

"Thank you, sir. It came to me a little suddenly, one morning when Iwas thinking of my aunt, sir. "

"Your aunt? The hansom cab one?"

"Yes, sir. I recollected that, whenever we observed one of her attackscoming on, we used to send for the clergyman of the parish. We alwaysfound that if he talked to her a while of higher things it diverted hermind from hansom cabs. It occurred to me that the same treatment mightprove efficacious in the case of Miss Rockmetteller. "

I was stunned by the man's resource. 

"It's brain, " I said; "pure brain! What do you do to get like that, Jeeves? I believe you must eat a lot of fish, or something. Do you eata lot of fish, Jeeves?"

"No, sir. "

"Oh, well, then, it's just a gift, I take it; and if you aren't bornthat way there's no use worrying. "

"Precisely, sir, " said Jeeves. "If I might make the suggestion, sir, Ishould not continue to wear your present tie. The green shade gives youa slightly bilious air. I should strongly advocate the blue with thered domino pattern instead, sir. "

"All right, Jeeves. " I said humbly. "You know!"

THE END