The Jeeves Omnibus - Vol 3

by Wodehouse, P. G.

  ‘You mean she asked you to ask me?’

  ‘Precisely, sir.’

  ‘Right ho. And the number?’

  ‘Sloane 8090. I fancy it is the residence of Miss Wickham’s aunt, in Eaton Square.’

  I got the number. And presently young Bobbie’s voice came floating over the wire. From the timbre I gathered that she was extremely bucked.

  ‘Hullo? Is that you, Bertie?’

  ‘In person. What’s the news?’

  ‘Wonderful. Everything went off splendidly. The lunch was just right. The child stuffed himself to the eyebrows and got more and more amiable, till by the time he had had his third go of ice-cream he was ready to say that any play – even one of mother’s – was the goods. I fired it at him before he could come out from under the influence, and he sat there absorbing it in a sort of gorged way, and at the end old Blumenfeld said “Well, sonny, how about it?” and the child gave a sort of faint smile, as if he was thinking about roly-poly pudding, and said “OK, pop,” and that’s all there was to it. Old Blumenfeld has taken him off to the movies, and I’m to look in at the Savoy at five-thirty to sign the contract. I’ve just been talking to mother on the ‘phone, and she’s quite consumedly braced.’

  ‘Terrific!’

  ‘I knew you’d be pleased. Oh, Bertie, there’s just one other thing. You remember saying to me once that there wasn’t anything in the world you wouldn’t do for me?’

  I paused a trifle warily. It is true that I had expressed myself in some such terms as she had indicated, but that was before the affair of Tuppy and the hot-water bottle, and in the calmer frame of mind induced by that episode I wasn’t feeling quite so spacious. You know how it is. Love’s flame flickers and dies, Reason returns to her throne, and you aren’t nearly as ready to hop about and jump through hoops as in the first pristine glow of the divine passion.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Well, it’s nothing I actually want you to do. It’s something I’ve done that I hope you won’t be sticky about. Just before I began reading the play, that dog of yours, the Aberdeen terrier, came into the room. The child Blumenfeld was very much taken with it and said he wished he had a dog like that, looking at me in a meaning sort of way. So naturally, I had to say “Oh, I’ll give you this one!”’

  I swayed somewhat.

  ‘You … You … What was that?’

  ‘I gave him the dog. I knew you wouldn’t mind. You see, it was vital to keep cosseting him. If I’d refused, he would have cut up rough and all that roly-poly pudding and stuff would have been thrown away. You see –’

  I hung up. The jaw had fallen, the eyes were protruding. I tottered from the booth and, reeling out of the club, hailed a taxi. I got to the flat and yelled for Jeeves.

  ‘Jeeves!’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Do you know what?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘The dog … my Aunt Agatha’s dog … McIntosh …’

  ‘I have not seen him for some little while, sir. He left me after the conclusion of luncheon. Possibly he’s in your bedroom.’

  ‘Yes, and possibly he jolly dashed well isn’t. If you want to know where he is, he’s in a suite at the Savoy.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Miss Wickham has just told me she gave him to Blumenfeld junior.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Gave him to Jumenfeld blunior, I tell you. As a present. As a gift. With warm personal regards.’

  ‘What was her motive in doing that, sir?’

  I explained the circs. Jeeves did a bit of respectful tongue-clicking.

  ‘I have always maintained, if you will remember, sir,’ he said, when I had finished, ‘that Miss Wickham, though a charming young lady –’

  ‘Yes, yes, never mind about that. What are we going to do? That’s the point. Aunt Agatha is due back between the hours of six and seven. She will find herself short one Aberdeen terrier. And, as she will probably have been considerably sea-sick all the way over, you will readily perceive, Jeeves, that, when I break the news that her dog has been given away to a total stranger, I shall find her in no mood of gentle charity.’

  ‘I see, sir, most disturbing.’

  ‘What did you say it was?’

  ‘Most disturbing, sir.’

  I snorted a trifle.

  ‘Oh?’ I said. ‘And I suppose, if you had been in San Francisco when the earthquake started, you would just have lifted up your finger and said “Tweet, tweet! Shush, shush! Now, now! Come, come!” The English language, they used to tell me at school, is the richest in the world, crammed full from end to end with about a million red-hot adjectives. Yet the only one you can find to describe this ghastly business is the adjective “disturbing”. It is not disturbing, Jeeves. It is … what’s the word I want?’

  ‘Cataclysmal, sir.’

  ‘I shouldn’t wonder. Well, what’s to be done?’

  ‘I will bring you a whisky-and-soda, sir.’

  ‘What’s the good of that?’

  ‘It will refresh you, sir. And in the meantime, if it is your wish, I will give the matter consideration.’

  ‘Carry on.’

  ‘Very good, sir. I assume that it is not your desire to do anything that may in any way jeopardize the cordial relations which now exist between Miss Wickham and Mr and Master Blumenfeld?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘You would not, for example, contemplate proceeding to the Savoy Hotel and demanding the return of the dog?’

  It was a tempting thought, but I shook the old onion firmly. There are things which a Wooster can do and things which, if you follow me, a Wooster cannot do. The procedure which he had indicated would undoubtedly have brought home the bacon, but the thwarted kid would have been bound to turn nasty and change his mind about the play. And, while I didn’t think that any drama written by Bobbie’s mother was likely to do the theatre-going public much good, I couldn’t dash the cup of happiness, so to speak, from the blighted girl’s lips, as it were. Noblesse oblige about sums the thing up.

  ‘No, Jeeves,’ I said. But if you can think of some way by which I can oil privily into the suite and sneak the animal out of it without causing any hard feelings, spill it.’

  ‘I will endeavour to do so, sir.’

  ‘Snap into it, then, without delay. They say fish are good for the brain. Have a go at the sardines and come back and report.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  It was about ten minutes later that he entered the presence once more.

  ‘I fancy, sir –’

  ‘Yes, Jeeves?’

  ‘I rather fancy, sir, that I have discovered a plan of action.’

  ‘Or scheme.’

  ‘Or scheme, sir. A plan of action or scheme which will meet the situation. If I understood you rightly, sir, Mr and Master Blumenfeld have attended a motion-picture performance?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘In which case, they should not return to the hotel before five-fifteen?’

  ‘Correct once more. Miss Wickham is scheduled to blow in at five-thirty to sign the contract.’

  ‘The suite, therefore, is presently unoccupied.’

  ‘Except for McIntosh.’

  ‘Except for McIntosh, sir. Everything, accordingly, must depend on whether Mr Blumenfeld left instructions that, in the event of her arriving before he did, Miss Wickham was to be shown straight up to the suite, to await his return.’

  ‘Why does everything depend on that?’

  ‘Should he have done so, the matter becomes quite simple. All that is necessary is that Miss Wickham shall present herself at the hotel at five o’clock. She will go up to the suite. You will also have arrived at the hotel at five, sir, and will have made your way to the corridor outside the suite. If Mr and Master Blumenfeld have not returned, Miss Wickham will open the door and come out and you will go in, secure the dog, and take your departure.’

  I stared at the man.

  ‘How many tins of sardines did you eat, Je
eves?’

  ‘None, sir. I am not fond of sardines.’

  ‘You mean, you thought of this great, this ripe, this amazing scheme entirely without the impetus given to the brain by fish?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You stand alone, Jeeves.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘But I say!’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Suppose the dog won’t come away with me? You know how meagre his intelligence is. By this time, especially when he’s got used to a new place, he may have forgotten me completely and will look on me as a perfect stranger.’

  ‘I had thought of that, sir. The most judicious move will be for you to sprinkle your trousers with aniseed.’

  ‘Aniseed?’

  ‘Yes, sir. It is extensively used in the dog-stealing industry.’

  ‘But, Jeeves … dash it … aniseed?’

  ‘I consider it essential, sir.’

  ‘But where do you get the stuff?’

  ‘At any chemist’s, sir. If you will go out now and procure a small bottle, I will be telephoning to Miss Wickham to apprise her of the contemplated arrangements and ascertain whether she is to be admitted to the suite.’

  I don’t know what the record is for popping out and buying aniseed, but I should think I hold it. The thought of Aunt Agatha getting nearer and nearer to the Metropolis every minute induced a rare burst of speed. I was back at the flat so quick that I nearly met myself coming out.

  Jeeves had good news.

  ‘Everything is perfectly satisfactory, sir. Mr Blumenfeld did leave instructions that Miss Wickham was to be admitted to his suite. The young lady is now on her way to the hotel. By the time you reach it, you will find her there.’

  You know, whatever you may say about old Jeeves – and I, for one, have never wavered in my opinion that his views on shirts for evening wear are hidebound and reactionary to a degree – you’ve got to admit that the man can plan a campaign. Napoleon could have taken his correspondence course. When he sketches out a scheme, all you have to do is to follow it in every detail, and there you are.

  On the present occasion everything went absolutely according to plan, I had never realized before that dog-stealing could be so simple, having always regarded it rather as something that called for the ice-cool brain and the nerve of steel. I see now that a child can do it, if directed by Jeeves. I got to the hotel, sneaked up the stairs, hung about in the corridor trying to look like a potted palm in case anybody came along, and presently the door of the suite opened and Bobbie appeared, and suddenly, as I approached, out shot McIntosh, sniffing passionately, and the next moment his nose was up against my Spring trouserings, and he was drinking me in with every evidence of enjoyment. If I had been a bird that had been dead about five days, he could not have nuzzled me more heartily. Aniseed isn’t a scent that I care for particularly myself, but it seemed to speak straight to the deeps of McIntosh’s soul.

  The connection, as it were, having been established in this manner, the rest was simple. I merely withdrew, followed by the animal in the order named. We passed down the stairs in good shape, self reeking to heaven and animal inhaling the bouquet, and after a few anxious moments were safe in a cab, homeward bound. As smooth a bit of work as London had seen that day.

  Arrived at the flat, I handed McIntosh to Jeeves and instructed him to shut him up in the bathroom or somewhere where the spell cast by my trousers would cease to operate. This done, I again paid the man a marked tribute.

  ‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘I have had occasion to express the view before, and I now express it again fearlessly – you stand in a class of your own.’

  ‘Thank you very much, sir. I am glad that everything proceeded satisfactorily.’

  ‘The festivities went like a breeze from start to finish. Tell me, were you always like this, or did it come on suddenly?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘The brain. The grey matter. Were you an outstandingly brilliant boy?’

  ‘My mother thought me intelligent, sir.’

  ‘You can’t go by that. My mother thought me intelligent. Anyway, setting that aside for the moment, would a fiver be any use to you?’

  ‘Thank you very much, sir.’

  ‘Not that a fiver begins to cover it. Figure to yourself, Jeeves – try to envisage, if you follow what I mean, the probable behaviour of my Aunt Agatha if I had gone to her between the hours of six and seven and told her that McIntosh had passed out of the picture. I should have had to leave London and grow a beard.’

  ‘I can readily imagine, sir, that she would have been somewhat perturbed.’

  ‘She would. And on the occasions when my Aunt Agatha is perturbed heroes dive down drain-pipes to get out of her way. However, as it is, all has ended happily … Oh, great Scott!’

  ‘Sir?’

  I hesitated. It seemed a shame to cast a damper on the man just when he had extended himself so notably in the cause, but it had to be done.

  ‘You’ve overlooked something, Jeeves.’

  ‘Surely not, sir?’

  ‘Yes, Jeeves, I regret to say that the late scheme or plan of action, while gilt-edged as far as I am concerned, has rather landed Miss Wickham in the cart.’

  ‘In what way, sir?’

  ‘Why, don’t you see that, if they know that she was in the suite at the time of the outrage, the Blumenfelds, father and son, will instantly assume that she was mixed up in McIntosh’s disappearance, with the result that in their pique and chagrin they will call off the deal about the play? I’m surprised at you not spotting that, Jeeves. You’d have done much better to eat those sardines, as I advised.’

  I waggled my head rather sadly, and at this moment there was a ring at the front-door bell. And not an ordinary ring, mind you, but one of those resounding peals that suggest that somebody with a high blood-pressure and a grievance stands without. I leaped in my tracks. My busy afternoon had left the old nervous system not quite in mid-season form.

  ‘Good Lord, Jeeves!’

  ‘Somebody at the door, sir.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Probably Mr Blumenfeld, senior, sir.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘He rang up on the telephone, sir, shortly before you returned, to say that he was about to pay you a call.’

  ‘You don’t mean that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Advise me, Jeeves.’

  ‘I fancy the most judicious procedure would be for you to conceal yourself behind the settee, sir.’

  I saw that his advice was good. I have never met this Blumenfeld socially, but I had seen him from afar on the occasion when he and Cyril Bassington-Bassington had had their falling out, and he hadn’t struck me then as a bloke with whom, if in one of his emotional moods, it would be at all agreeable to be shut up in a small room. A large, round, flat, overflowing bird, who might quite easily, if stirred, fall on a fellow and flatten him to the carpet.

  So I nestled behind the settee, and in about five seconds there was a sound like a mighty, rushing wind and something extraordinarily substantial bounded into the sitting room.

  ‘This guy, Wooster,’ bellowed a voice that had been strengthened by a lifetime of ticking actors off at dress-rehearsals from the back of the theatre.

  ‘Where is he?’

  Jeeves continued suave.

  ‘I could not say, sir.’

  ‘He’s sneaked my son’s dog.’

  ‘Indeed, sir?’

  ‘Walked into my suite as cool as dammit and took the animal away.’

  ‘Most disturbing, sir.’

  ‘And you don’t know where he is?’

  ‘Mr Wooster may be anywhere, sir. He is uncertain in his movements.’

  The bloke Blumenfeld gave a loud sniff.

  ‘Odd smell here!’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Aniseed, sir.’

  ‘Aniseed?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Mr Wooster sprinkles it on his trousers.’


  ‘Sprinkles it on his trousers?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What on earth does he do that for?’

  ‘I could not say, sir. Mr Wooster’s motives are always somewhat hard to follow. He is eccentric.’

  ‘Eccentric? He must be a loony.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You mean he is?’

  ‘Yes, sir!’

  There was a pause. A long one.

  ‘Oh?’ said old Blumenfeld, and it seemed to me that a good deal of what you might call the vim had gone out of his voice.

  He paused again.

  ‘Not dangerous?’

  ‘Yes, sir, when roused.’

  ‘Er – what rouses him chiefly?’

  ‘One of Mr Wooster’s peculiarities is that he does not like the sight of gentlemen of full habit, sir. They seem to infuriate him.’

  ‘You mean, fat men?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘One cannot say, sir.’

  There was another pause.

  ‘I’m fat!’ said old Blumenfeld in a rather pensive sort of voice.

  ‘I would not venture to suggest it myself, sir, but as you say so … You may recollect that, on being informed that you were to be a member of the luncheon party, Mr Wooster, doubting his power of self-control, refused to be present.’

  ‘That’s right. He went rushing out just as I arrived. I thought it odd at the time. My son thought it odd. We both thought it odd.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Mr Wooster, I imagine, wished to avoid any possible unpleasantness, such as has occurred before … With regard to the smell of aniseed, sir, I fancy I have now located it. Unless I am mistaken it proceeds from behind the settee. No doubt Mr Wooster is sleeping there.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Sleeping, sir.’

  ‘Does he often sleep on the floor?’

  ‘Most afternoons, sir. Would you desire me to wake him?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I thought you had something that you wished to say to Mr Wooster, sir.’

  Old Blumenfeld drew a deep breath. ‘So did I,’ he said. ‘But I find I haven’t. Just get me alive out of here, that’s all I ask.’

  I heard the door close, and a little while later the front door banged. I crawled out. It hadn’t been any too cosy behind the settee, and I was glad to be elsewhere. Jeeves came trickling back.