P G Wodehouse - Piccadilly Jim

by Piccadilly Jim

  Mr. Pett was on the point of mentioning that this was not the first time Ann had met Jimmy, but refrained. After all, that interview had happened five years ago. Jimmy had almost certainly forgotten all about it. There was no use in making him feel unnecessarily awkward. It was up to Ann. If she wanted to disinter the ancient grievance, let her. It was no business of his.

  "I thought you weren't coming over!" said Ann.

  "I changed my mind."

  Mr. Pett, who had been gazing attentively at them, uttered an exclamation.

  "I've got it! I've been trying all this while to think where it was that I saw you before. It was on the -Atlantic-!"

  Ann caught Jimmy's eye. She was relieved to see that he was not disturbed by this sudden development.

  "Did you come over on the -Atlantic-, Mr. Crocker?" she said. "Surely not? We crossed on her ourselves. We should have met."

  "Don't call me Mr. Crocker," said Jimmy. "Call me Jimmy. Your mother's brother's wife's sister's second husband is my father. Blood is thicker than water. No, I came over on the -Caronia-. We docked this morning."

  "Well, there was a fellow just like you on the -Atlantic-," persisted Mr. Pett.

  Mrs. Pett said nothing. She was watching Jimmy with a keen and suspicious eye.

  "I suppose I'm a common type," said Jimmy.

  "You remember the man I mean," said Mr. Pett, innocently unconscious of the unfriendly thoughts he was encouraging in two of his hearers. "He sat two tables away from us at meals. You remember him, Nesta?"

  "As I was too unwell to come to meals, I do not."

  "Why, I thought I saw you once talking to him on deck, Ann."

  "Really?" said Ann. "I don't remember any one who looked at all like Jimmy."

  "Well," said Mr. Pett, puzzled. "It's very strange. I guess I'm wrong." He looked at his watch. "Well, I'll have to be getting back to the office."

  "I'll come with you part of the way, uncle Pete," said Jimmy. "I have to go and arrange for my things to be expressed here."

  "Why not phone to the hotel?" said Mr. Pett. It seemed to Jimmy and Ann that he was doing this sort of thing on purpose. "Which hotel did you leave them at?"

  "No, I shall have to go there. I have some packing to do."

  "You will be back to lunch?" said Ann.

  "Thanks. I shan't be gone more than half an hour."

  For a moment after they had gone, Ann relaxed, happy and relieved. Everything had gone splendidly. Then a shock ran through her whole system as Mrs. Pett spoke. She spoke excitedly, in a lowered voice, leaning over to Ann.

  "Ann! Did you notice anything? Did you suspect anything?"

  Ann mastered her emotion with an effort.

  "Whatever do you mean, aunt Nesta?"

  "About that young man, who calls himself Jimmy Crocker."

  Ann clutched the side of the chair.

  "Who calls himself Jimmy Crocker? I don't understand."

  Ann tried to laugh. It seemed to her an age before she produced any sound at all, and when it came it was quite unlike a laugh.

  "What put that idea into your head? Surely, if he says he is Jimmy Crocker, it's rather absurd to doubt him, isn't it? How could anybody except Jimmy Crocker know that you were anxious to get Jimmy Crocker over here? You didn't tell any one, did you?"

  This reasoning shook Mrs. Pett a little, but she did not intend to abandon a perfectly good suspicion merely because it began to seem unreasonable.

  "They have their spies everywhere," she said doggedly.

  "Who have?"

  "The Secret Service people from other countries. Lord Wisbeach was telling me about it yesterday. He said that I ought to suspect everybody. He said that an attempt might be made on Willie's invention at any moment now."

  "He was joking."

  "He was not. I have never seen any one so serious. He said that I ought to regard every fresh person who came into the house as a possible criminal."

  "Well, that guy's fresh enough," muttered Ogden from the settee.

  Mrs. Pett started.

  "Ogden! I had forgotten that you were there." She uttered a cry of horror, as the fact of his presence started a new train of thought. "Why, this man may have come to kidnap you! I never thought of that."

  Ann felt it time to intervene. Mrs. Pett was hovering much too near the truth for comfort. "You mustn't imagine things, aunt Nesta. I believe it comes from writing the sort of stories you do. Surely, it is impossible for this man to be an impostor. How would he dare take such a risk? He must know that you could detect him at any moment by cabling over to Mrs. Crocker to ask if her step-son was really in America."

  It was a bold stroke, for it suggested a plan of action which, if followed, would mean ruin for her schemes, but Ann could not refrain from chancing it. She wanted to know whether her aunt had any intention of asking Mrs. Crocker for information, or whether the feud was too bitter for her pride to allow her to communicate with her sister in any way. She breathed again as Mrs. Pett stiffened grimly in her chair.

  "I should not dream of cabling to Eugenia."

  "I quite understand that," said Ann. "But an impostor would not know that you felt like that, would he?"

  "I see what you mean."

  Ann relaxed again. The relief was, however, only momentary.

  "I cannot understand, though," said Mrs. Pett, "why your uncle should have been so positive that he saw this young man on the -Atlantic-."

  "Just a chance resemblance, I suppose. Why, uncle Peter said he saw the man whom he imagined was like Jimmy Crocker talking to me. If there had been any real resemblance, shouldn't I have seen it before uncle Peter?"

  Assistance came from an unexpected quarter.

  "I know the chap uncle Peter meant," said Ogden. "He wasn't like this guy at all."

  Ann was too grateful for the help to feel astonished at it. Her mind, dwelling for a mere instant on the matter, decided that Ogden must have seen her on deck with somebody else than Jimmy. She had certainly not lacked during the voyage for those who sought her society.

  Mrs. Pett seemed to be impressed.

  "I may be letting my imagination run away with me," she said.

  "Of course you are, aunt Nesta," said Ann thankfully. "You don't realise what a vivid imagination you have got. When I was typing that last story of yours, I was simply astounded at the ideas you had thought of. I remember saying so to uncle Peter. You can't expect to have a wonderful imagination like yours and not imagine things, can you?"

  Mrs. Pett smiled demurely. She looked hopefully at her niece, waiting for more, but Ann had said her say.

  "You are perfectly right, my dear child," she said when she was quite sure the eulogy was not to be resumed. "No doubt I have been foolish to suspect this young man. But Lord Wisbeach's words naturally acted more strongly on a mind like mine than they would have done in the case of another woman."

  "Of course," said Ann.

  She was feeling quite happy now. It had been tense while it had lasted, but everything was all right now.

  "And, fortunately," said Mrs. Pett, "there is a way by which we can find out for certain if the young man is really James Crocker."

  Ann became rigid again.

  "A way? What way?"

  "Why, don't you remember, my dear, that Skinner has known James Crocker for years."

  "Skinner?"

  The name sounded familiar, but in the stress of the moment Ann could not identify it.

  "My new butler. He came to me straight from Eugenia. It was he who let us in when we called at her house. Nobody could know better than he whether this person is really James Crocker or not."

  Ann felt as if she had struggled to the limit of her endurance. She was not prepared to cope with this unexpected blow. She had not the strength to rally under it. Dully she perceived that her schemes must be dismissed as a failure before they had had a chance of success. Her accomplice must not return to the house to be exposed. She saw that clearly enough. If he came back, he would walk st
raight into a trap. She rose quickly. She must warn him. She must intercept him before he arrived--and he might arrive at any moment now.

  "Of course," she said, steadying herself with an effort, "I never thought of that. That makes it all simple.... I hope lunch won't be late. I'm hungry."

  She sauntered to the door, but, directly she had closed it behind her, ran to her room, snatched up a hat, and rushed downstairs and out into Riverside Drive. Just as she reached the street, Jimmy turned the corner. She ran towards him, holding up her hands.

  CHAPTER XIV

  LORD WISBEACH

  Jimmy halted in his tracks. The apparition had startled him. He had been thinking of Ann, but he had not expected her to bound out at him, waving her arms.

  "What's the matter?" he enquired.

  Ann pulled him towards a side-street.

  "You mustn't go to the house. Everything has gone wrong."

  "Everything gone wrong? I thought I had made a hit. I have with your uncle, anyway. We parted on the friendliest terms. We have arranged to go to the ball-game together to-morrow. He is going to tell them at the office that Carnegie wants to see him."

  "It isn't uncle Peter. It's aunt Nesta."

  "Ah, there you touch my conscience. I was a little tactless, I'm afraid, with Ogden. It happened before you came into the room. I suppose that is the trouble?"

  "It has nothing do with that," said Ann impatiently. "It's much worse. Aunt Nesta is suspicious. She has guessed that you aren't really Jimmy Crocker."

  "Great Scott! How?"

  "I tried to calm her down, but she still suspects. So now she has decided to wait and see if Skinner, the butler, knows you. If he doesn't, she will know that she was right."

  Jimmy was frankly puzzled.

  "I don't quite follow the reasoning. Surely it's a peculiar kind of test. Why should she think a man cannot be honest and true unless her butler knows him? There must be hundreds of worthy citizens whom he does not know."

  "Skinner arrived from England a few days ago. Until then he was employed by Mrs. Crocker. Now do you understand?"

  Jimmy stopped. She had spoken slowly and distinctly, and there could be no possibility that he had misunderstood her, yet he scarcely believed that he had heard her aright. How could a man named Skinner have been his step-mother's butler? Bayliss had been with the family ever since they had arrived in London.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Of course, of course I'm sure. Aunt Nesta told me herself. There can't possibly be a mistake, because it was Skinner who let her in when she called on Mrs. Crocker. Uncle Peter told me about it. He had a talk with the man in the hall and found that he was a baseball enthusiast--"

  A wild, impossible idea flashed upon Jimmy. It was so absurd that he felt ashamed of entertaining it even for a moment. But strange things were happening these times, and it might be...

  "What sort of looking man is Skinner?"

  "Oh, stout, clean-shaven. I like him. He's much more human than I thought butlers ever were. Why?"

  "Oh, nothing."

  "Of course, you can't go back to the house. You see that? He would say that you aren't Jimmy Crocker and then you would be arrested."

  "I don't see that. If I am sufficiently like Crocker for his friends to mistake me for him in restaurants, why shouldn't this butler mistake me, too?"

  "But--?"

  "And, consider. In any case, there's no harm done. If he fails to recognise me when he opens the door to us, we shall know that the game is up: and I shall have plenty of time to disappear. If the likeness deceives him, all will be well. I propose that we go to the house, ring the bell, and when he appears, I will say 'Ah, Skinner! Honest fellow!' or words to that effect. He will either stare blankly at me or fawn on me like a faithful watchdog. We will base our further actions on which way the butler jumps."

  The sound of the bell died away. Footsteps were heard. Ann reached for Jimmy's arm and--clutched it.

  "Now!" she whispered.

  The door opened. Next moment Jimmy's suspicion was confirmed. Gaping at them from the open doorway, wonderfully respectable and butlerlike in swallow-tails, stood his father. How he came to be there, and why he was there, Jimmy did not know. But there he was.

  Jimmy had little faith in his father's talents as a man of discretion. The elder Crocker was one of those simple, straight forward people who, when surprised, do not conceal their surprise, and who, not understanding any situation in which they find themselves, demand explanation on the spot. Swift and immediate action was indicated on his part before his amazed parent, finding him on the steps of the one house in New York where he was least likely to be, should utter words that would undo everything. He could see the name Jimmy trembling on Mr. Crocker's lips.

  He waved his hand cheerily.

  "Ah, Skinner, there you are!" he said breezily. "Miss Chester was telling me that you had left my step-mother. I suppose you sailed on the boat before mine. I came over on the -Caronia-. I suppose you didn't expect to see me again so soon, eh?"

  A spasm seemed to pass over Mr. Crocker's face, leaving it calm and serene. He had been thrown his cue, and like the old actor he was he took it easily and without confusion. He smiled a respectful smile.

  "No, indeed, sir."

  He stepped aside to allow them to enter. Jimmy caught Ann's eye as she passed him. It shone with relief and admiration, and it exhilarated Jimmy like wine. As she moved towards the stairs, he gave expression to his satisfaction by slapping his father on the back with a report that rang out like a pistol shot.

  "What was that?" said Ann, turning.

  "Something out on the Drive, I think," said Jimmy. "A car back-firing, I fancy, Skinner."

  "Very probably, sir."

  He followed Ann to the stairs. As he started to mount them, a faint whisper reached his ears.

  "'At-a-boy!"

  It was Mr. Crocker's way of bestowing a father's blessing.

  Ann walked into the drawing-room, her head high, triumph in the glance which she cast upon her unconscious aunt.

  "Quite an interesting little scene downstairs, aunt Nesta," she said. "The meeting of the faithful old retainer and the young master. Skinner was almost overcome with surprise and joy when he saw Jimmy!"

  Mrs. Pett could not check an incautious exclamation.

  "Did Skinner recognise--?" she began; then stopped herself abruptly.

  Ann laughed.

  "Did he recognise Jimmy? Of course! He was hardly likely to have forgotten him, surely? It isn't much more than a week since he was waiting on him in London."

  "It was a very impressive meeting," said Jimmy. "Rather like the reunion of Ulysses and the hound Argos, of which this bright-eyed child here--" he patted Ogden on the head, a proceeding violently resented by that youth--"has no doubt read in the course of his researches into the Classics. I was Ulysses, Skinner enacted the role of the exuberant dog."

  Mrs. Pett was not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed at this evidence that her suspicions had been without foundation. On the whole, relief may be said to have preponderated.

  "I have no doubt he was pleased to see you again. He must have been very much astonished."

  "He was!"

  "You will be meeting another old friend in a minute or two," said Mrs. Pett.

  Jimmy had been sinking into a chair. This remark stopped him in mid-descent.

  "Another!"

  Mrs. Pett glanced at the clock.

  "Lord Wisbeach is coming to lunch."

  "Lord Wisbeach!" cried Ann. "He doesn't know Jimmy."

  "Eugenia informed me in London that he was one of your best friends, James."

  Ann looked helplessly at Jimmy. She was conscious again of that feeling of not being able to cope with Fate's blows, of not having the strength to go on climbing over the barriers which Fate placed in her path.

  Jimmy, for his part, was cursing the ill fortune that had brought Lord Wisbeach across his path. He saw clearly that it only needed recogniti
on by one or two more intimates of Jimmy Crocker to make Ann suspect his real identity. The fact that she had seen him with Bayliss in Paddington Station and had fallen into the error of supposing Bayliss to be his father had kept her from suspecting until now; but this could not last forever. He remembered Lord Wisbeach well, as a garrulous, irrepressible chatterer who would probably talk about old times to such an extent as to cause Ann to realise the truth in the first five minutes.

  The door opened.

  "Lord Wisbeach," announced Mr. Crocker.

  "I'm afraid I'm late, Mrs. Pett," said his lordship.

  "No. You're quite punctual. Lord Wisbeach, here is an old friend of yours, James Crocker."

  There was an almost imperceptible pause. Then Jimmy stepped forward and held out his hand.

  "Hello, Wizzy, old man!"

  "H-hello, Jimmy!"

  Their eyes met. In his lordship's there was an expression of unmistakable relief, mingled with astonishment. His face, which had turned a sickly white, flushed as the blood poured back into it. He had the appearance of a man who had had a bad shock and is just getting over it. Jimmy, eyeing him curiously, was not surprised at his emotion. What the man's game might be, he could not say; but of one thing he was sure, which was that this was not Lord Wisbeach, but--on the contrary--some one he had never seen before in his life.

  "Luncheon is served, madam!" said Mr. Crocker sonorously from the doorway.

  CHAPTER XV

  A LITTLE BUSINESS CHAT

  It was not often that Ann found occasion to rejoice at the presence in her uncle's house of the six geniuses whom Mrs. Pett had installed therein. As a rule, she disliked them individually and collectively. But to-day their company was extraordinarily welcome to her. They might have their faults, but at least their presence tended to keep the conversation general and prevent it becoming a duologue between Lord Wisbeach and Jimmy on the subject of old times. She was still feeling weak from the reaction consequent upon the slackening of the tension of her emotions on seeing Lord Wisbeach greet Jimmy as an old acquaintance. She had never hoped that that barrier would be surmounted. She had pictured Lord Wisbeach drawing back with a puzzled frown on his face and an astonished "But this is not Jimmy Crocker." The strain had left her relieved, but in no mood for conversation, and she replied absently to the remarks of Howard Bemis, the poet, who sat on her left. She looked round the table. Willie Partridge was talking to Mrs. Pett about the difference between picric acid and trinitrotoluene, than which a pleasanter topic for the luncheon table could hardly be selected, and the voice of Clarence Renshaw rose above all other competing noises, as he spoke of the functions of the trochaic spondee. There was nothing outwardly to distinguish this meal from any other which she had shared of late in that house.