P G Wodehouse - Piccadilly Jim

by Piccadilly Jim

  He heaved himself out of the chair, and left the room. Ann, coming down from the gallery, found Jimmy meditating. He looked up at the sound of her step.

  "Well, that seems to make it pretty easy for us, doesn't it?" he said. "It solves the problem of ways and means."

  "But this is awful. This alters everything. It isn't safe for you to stay here. You must go away at once. They've found you out. You may be arrested at any moment."

  "That's a side-issue. The main point is to put this thing through. Then we can think about what is going to happen to me."

  "But can't you see the risk you're running?"

  "I don't mind. I want to help you."

  "I won't let you."

  "You must."

  "But do be sensible. What would you think of me if I allowed you to face this danger--?"

  "I wouldn't think any differently of you. My opinion of you is a fixed thing. Nothing can alter it. I tried to tell you on the boat, but you wouldn't let me. I think you're the most perfect, wonderful girl in all the world. I've loved you since the first moment I saw you. I knew who you were when we met for half a minute that day in London. We were utter strangers, but I knew you. You were the girl I had been looking for all my life. Good Heavens, you talk of risks. Can't you understand that just being with you and speaking to you and knowing that we share this thing together is enough to wipe out any thought of risk? I'd do anything for you. And you expect me to back out of this thing because there is a certain amount of danger!"

  Ann had retreated to the door, and was looking at him with wide eyes. With other young men and there had been many--who had said much the same sort of thing to her since her -debutante- days she had been cool and composed--a little sorry, perhaps, but in no doubt as to her own feelings and her ability to resist their pleadings. But now her heart was racing, and the conviction had begun to steal over her that the cool and composed Ann Chester was in imminent danger of making a fool of herself. Quite suddenly, without any sort of warning, she realised that there was some quality in Jimmy which called aloud to some corresponding quality in herself--a nebulous something that made her know that he and she were mates. She knew herself hard to please where men were concerned. She could not have described what it was in her that all the men she had met, the men with whom she had golfed and ridden and yachted, had failed to satisfy: but, ever since she had acquired the power of self-analysis, she had known that it was something which was a solid and indestructible part of her composition. She could not have put into words what quality she demanded in man, but she had always known that she would recognise it when she found it: and she recognised it now in Jimmy. It was a recklessness, an irresponsibility, a cheerful dare-devilry, the complement to her own gay lawlessness.

  "Ann!" said Jimmy.

  "It's too late!"

  She had not meant to say that. She had meant to say that it was impossible, out of the question. But her heart was running away with her, goaded on by the irony of it all. A veil seemed to have fallen from before her eyes, and she knew now why she had been drawn to Jimmy from the very first. They were mates, and she had thrown away her happiness.

  "I've promised to marry Lord Wisbeach!"

  Jimmy stopped dead, as if the blow had been a physical one.

  "You've promised to marry Lord Wisbeach!"

  "Yes."

  "But--but when?"

  "Just now. Only a few minutes ago. When I was driving him to his hotel. He had asked me to marry him before I left for England, and I had promised to give him his answer when I got back. But when I got back, somehow I couldn't make up my mind. The days slipped by. Something seemed to be holding me back. He pressed me to say that I would marry him, and it seemed absurd to go on refusing to be definite, so I said I would."

  "You can't love him? Surely you don't--?"

  Ann met his gaze frankly.

  "Something seems to have happened to me in the last few minutes," she said, "and I can't think clearly. A little while ago it didn't seem to matter much. I liked him. He was good-looking and good-tempered. I felt that we should get along quite well and be as happy as most people are. That seemed as near perfection as one could expect to get nowadays, so--well, that's how it was."

  "But you can't marry him! It's out of the question!"

  "I've promised."

  "You must break your promise."

  "I can't do that."

  "You must!"

  "I can't. One must play the game."

  Jimmy groped for words. "But in this case you mustn't--it's awful--in this special case--" He broke off. He saw the trap he was in. He could not denounce that crook without exposing himself. And from that he still shrank. Ann's prejudice against Jimmy Crocker might have its root in a trivial and absurd grievance, but it had been growing through the years, and who could say how strong it was now?

  Ann came a step towards him, then paused doubtfully. Then, as if making up her mind, she drew near and touched his sleeve.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  There was a silence.

  "I'm sorry!"

  She moved away. The door closed softly behind her. Jimmy scarcely knew that she had gone. He sat down in that deep chair which was Mr. Pett's favourite, and stared sightlessly at the ceiling. And then, how many minutes or hours later he did not know, the sharp click of the door-handle roused him. He sprang from the chair. Was it Ann, come back?

  It was not Ann. Round the edge of the door came inquiringly the fair head of Lord Wisbeach.

  "Oh!" said his lordship, sighting Jimmy.

  The head withdrew itself.

  "Come here!" shouted Jimmy.

  The head appeared again.

  "Talking to me?"

  "Yes, I was talking to you."

  Lord Wisbeach followed his superstructure into the room. He was outwardly all that was bland and unperturbed, but there was a wary look in the eye that cocked itself at Jimmy, and he did not move far from the door. His fingers rested easily on the handle behind him. He did not think it probable that Jimmy could have heard of his visit to Mrs. Pett, but there had been something menacing in the latter's voice, and he believed in safety first.

  "They told me Miss Chester was here," he said by way of relaxing any possible strain there might be in the situation.

  "And what the devil do you want with Miss Chester, you slimy, crawling second-story-worker, you damned, oily yegg?" enquired Jimmy.

  The sunniest optimist could not have deluded himself into the belief that the words were spoken in a friendly and genial spirit. Lord Wisbeach's fingers tightened on the door-handle, and he grew a little flushed about the cheek-bones.

  "What's all this about?" he said.

  "You infernal crook!"

  Lord Wisbeach looked anxious.

  "Don't shout like that! Are you crazy? Do you want people to hear?"

  Jimmy drew a deep breath.

  "I shall have to get further away from you," he said more quietly. "There's no knowing what may happen if I don't. I don't want to kill you. At least, I do, but I had better not."

  He retired slowly until brought to a halt by the writing-desk. To this he anchored himself with a firm grip. He was extremely anxious to do nothing rash, and the spectacle of Gentleman Jack invited rashness. He leaned against the desk, clutching its solidity with both hands. Lord Wisbeach held steadfastly to the door-handle. And in this tense fashion the interview proceeded.

  "Miss Chester," said Jimmy, forcing himself to speak calmly, "has just been telling me that she has promised to marry you."

  "Quite true," said Lord Wisbeach. "It will be announced to-morrow." A remark trembled on his lips, to the effect that he relied on Jimmy for a fish-slice, but prudence kept it unspoken. He was unable at present to understand Jimmy's emotion. Why Jimmy should object to his being engaged to Ann, he could not imagine. But it was plain that for some reason he had taken the thing to heart, and, dearly as he loved a bit of quiet fun, Lord Wisbeach decided that the other was at least six inches too tall
and fifty pounds too heavy to be bantered in his present mood by one of his own physique. "Why not?"

  "It won't be announced to-morrow," said Jimmy. "Because by to-morrow you will be as far away from here as you can get, if you have any sense."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Just this. If you haven't left this house by breakfast time to-morrow, I shall expose you."

  Lord Wisbeach was not feeling particularly happy, but he laughed at this.

  "You!"

  "That's what I said."

  "Who do you think you are, to go about exposing people?"

  "I happen to be Mrs. Pett's nephew, Jimmy Crocker."

  Lord Wisbeach laughed again.

  "Is that the line you are going to take?"

  "It is."

  "You are going to Mrs. Pett to tell her that you are Jimmy Crocker and that I am a crook and that you only pretended to recognise me for reasons of your own?"

  "Just that."

  "Forget it!" Lord Wisbeach had forgotten to be alarmed in his amusement. He smiled broadly. "I'm not saying it's not good stuff to pull, but it's old stuff now. I'm sorry for you, but I thought of it before you did. I went to Mrs. Pett directly after lunch and sprang that line of talk myself. Do you think she'll believe you after that? I tell you I'm ace-high with that dame. You can't queer me with her."

  "I think I can. For the simple reason that I really am Jimmy Crocker."

  "Yes, you are."

  "Exactly. Yes, I am."

  Lord Wisbeach smiled tolerantly.

  "It was worth trying the bluff, I guess, but it won't work. I know you'd be glad to get me out of this house, but you've got to make a better play than that to do it."

  "Don't deceive yourself with the idea that I'm bluffing. Look here." He suddenly removed his coat and threw it to Lord Wisbeach. "Read the tailor's label inside the pocket. See the name. Also the address. 'J. Crocker. Drexdale House. Grosvenor Square. London.'"

  Lord Wisbeach picked up the garment and looked as directed. His face turned a little sallower, but he still fought against his growing conviction.

  "That's no proof."

  "Perhaps not. But, when you consider the reputation of the tailor whose name is on the label, it's hardly likely that he would be standing in with an impostor, is it? If you want real proof, I have no doubt that there are half a dozen men working on the -Chronicle- who can identify me. Or are you convinced already?"

  Lord Wisbeach capitulated.

  "I don't know what fool game you think you're playing, but I can't see why you couldn't have told me this when we were talking after lunch."

  "Never mind. I had my reasons. They don't matter. What matters is that you are going to get out of here to-morrow. Do you understand that?"

  "I get you."

  "Then that's about all, I think. Don't let me keep you."

  "Say, listen." Gentleman Jack's voice was plaintive. "I think you might give a fellow a chance to get out good. Give me time to have a guy in Montreal send me a telegram telling me to go up there right away. Otherwise you might just as well put the cops on me at once. The old lady knows I've got business in Canada. You don't need to be rough on a fellow."

  Jimmy pondered this point.

  "All right. I don't object to that."

  "Thanks."

  "Don't start anything, though."

  "I don't know what you mean."

  Jimmy pointed to the safe.

  "Come, come, friend of my youth. We have no secrets from each other. I know you're after what's in there, and you know that I know. I don't want to harp on it, but you'll be spending to-night in the house, and I think you had better make up your mind to spend it in your room, getting a nice sleep to prepare you for your journey. Do you follow me, old friend?"

  "I get you."

  "That will be all then, I think. Wind a smile around your neck and recede."

  The door slammed. Lord Wisbeach had restrained his feelings successfully during the interview, but he could not deny himself that slight expression of them. Jimmy crossed the room and took his coat from the chair where the other had dropped it. As he did so a voice spoke.

  "Say!"

  Jimmy spun round. The room was apparently empty. The thing was beginning to assume an uncanny aspect, when the voice spoke again.

  "You think you're darned funny, don't you?"

  It came from above. Jimmy had forgotten the gallery. He directed his gaze thither, and perceived the heavy face of Ogden hanging over the rail like a gargoyle.

  "What are you doing there?" he demanded.

  "Listening."

  "How did you get there?"

  "There's a door back here that you get to from the stairs. I often come here for a quiet cigarette. Say, you think yourself some josher, don't you, telling me you were a kidnapper! You strung me like an onion. So you're really Jimmy Crocker after all? Where was the sense in pulling all that stuff about taking me away and divvying up the ransom? Aw, you make me tired!"

  The head was withdrawn, and Jimmy heard heavy steps followed by the banging of a door. Peace reigned in the library.

  Jimmy sat down in the chair which was Mr. Pett's favourite and which Ogden was accustomed to occupy to that gentleman's displeasure. The swiftness of recent events had left him a little dizzy, and he desired to think matters over and find out exactly what had happened.

  The only point which appeared absolutely clear to him in a welter of confusing occurrences was the fact that he had lost the chance of kidnapping Ogden. Everything had arranged itself so beautifully simply and conveniently as regarded that venture until a moment ago; but now that the boy had discovered his identity it was impossible for him to attempt it. He was loth to accept this fact. Surely, even now, there was a way...

  Quite suddenly an admirable plan occurred to him. It involved the co-operation of his father. And at that thought he realised with a start that life had been moving so rapidly for him since his return to the house that he had not paid any attention at all to what was really as amazing a mystery as any. He had been too busy to wonder why his father was there.

  He debated the best method of getting in touch with him. It was out of the question to descend to the pantry or wherever it was that his father lived in this new incarnation of his. Then the happy thought struck him that results might be obtained by the simple process of ringing the bell. It might produce some other unit of the domestic staff. However, it was worth trying. He rang the bell.

  A few moments later the door opened. Jimmy looked up. It was not his father. It was a dangerous-looking female of uncertain age, dressed as a parlour-maid, who eyed him with what seemed to his conscience-stricken soul dislike and suspicion. She had a tight-lipped mouth and beady eyes beneath heavy brows. Jimmy had seldom seen a woman who attracted him less at first sight.

  "Jer ring, S'?"

  Jimmy blinked and almost ducked. The words had come at him like a projectile.

  "Oh, ah, yes."

  "J' want anything, s'?"

  With an effort Jimmy induced his mind to resume its interrupted equilibrium.

  "Oh, ah, yes. Would you mind sending Skinner the butler to me."

  "Y's'r."

  The apparition vanished. Jimmy drew out his handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. He felt weak and guilty. He felt as if he had just been accused of nameless crimes and had been unable to deny the charge. Such was the magic of Miss Trimble's eye--the left one, which looked directly at its object. Conjecture pauses baffled at the thought of the effect which her gaze might have created in the breasts of the sex she despised, had it been double instead of single-barrelled. But half of it had wasted itself on a spot some few feet to his right.

  Presently the door opened again, and Mr. Crocker appeared, looking like a benevolent priest.

  CHAPTER XIX

  BETWEEN FATHER AND SON

  "Well, Skinner, my man," said Jimmy, "how goes it?"

  Mr. Crocker looked about him cautiously. Then his priestly manner fell from him like a rob
e, and he bounded forward.

  "Jimmy!" he exclaimed, seizing his son's hand and shaking it violently. "Say, it's great seeing you again, Jim!"

  Jimmy drew himself up haughtily.

  "Skinner, my good menial, you forget yourself strangely! You will be getting fired if you mitt the handsome guest in this chummy fashion!" He slapped his father on the back. "Dad, this is great! How on earth do you come to be here? What's the idea? Why the buttling? When did you come over? Tell me all!"

  Mr. Crocker hoisted himself nimbly onto the writing-desk, and sat there, beaming, with dangling legs.

  "It was your letter that did it, Jimmy. Say, Jim, there wasn't any need for you to do a thing like that just for me."

  "Well, I thought you would have a better chance of being a peer without me around. By the way, dad, how did my step-mother take the Lord Percy episode?"

  A shadow fell upon Mr. Crocker's happy face.

  "I don't like to do much thinking about your step-mother," he said. "She was pretty sore about Percy. And she was pretty sore about your lighting out for America. But, gee! what she must be feeling like now that I've come over, I daren't let myself think."

  "You haven't explained that yet. Why did you come over?"

  "Well, I'd been feeling homesick--I always do over there in the baseball season--and then talking with Pett made it worse--"

  "Talking with Pett? Did you see him, then, when he was in London?"

  "See him? I let him in!"

  "How?"

  "Into the house, I mean. I had just gone to the front door to see what sort of a day it was--I wanted to know if there had been enough rain in the night to stop my having to watch that cricket game--and just as I got there the bell rang. I opened the door."

  "A revoltingly plebeian thing to do! I'm ashamed of you, dad! They won't stand for that sort of thing in the House of Lords!"

  "Well, before I knew what was happening they had taken me for the butler. I didn't want your step-mother to know I'd been opening doors--you remember how touchy she was always about it so I just let it go at that and jollied them along. But I just couldn't help asking the old man how the pennant race was making out, and that tickled him so much that he offered me a job here as butler if I ever wanted to make a change. And then your note came saying that you were going to New York, and--well, I couldn't help myself. You couldn't have kept me in London with ropes. I sneaked out next day and bought a passage on the -Carmantic---she sailed the Wednesday after you left--and came straight here. They gave me this job right away." Mr. Crocker paused, and a holy light of enthusiasm made his homely features almost beautiful. "Say, Jim, I've seen a ball-game every darned day since I landed! Say, two days running Larry Doyle made home-runs! But, gosh! that guy Klem is one swell robber! See here!" Mr. Crocker sprang down from the desk, and snatched up a handful of books, which he proceeded to distribute about the floor. "There were two men on bases in the sixth and What's-his-name came to bat. He lined one out to centre-field--where this book is--and--"