Right Ho, Jeeves

by P. G. Wodehouse

  -15-

  I gave him the eye. The evening had begun to draw in a bit by now and thevisibility, in consequence, was not so hot, but there still remainedample light to enable me to see him clearly. And what I saw convinced methat I should be a lot easier in my mind with a stout rustic benchbetween us. I rose, accordingly, modelling my style on that of arocketing pheasant, and proceeded to deposit myself on the other side ofthe object named.

  My prompt agility was not without its effect. He seemed somewhat takenaback. He came to a halt, and, for about the space of time required toallow a bead of persp. to trickle from the top of the brow to the tip ofthe nose, stood gazing at me in silence.

  "So!" he said at length, and it came as a complete surprise to me thatfellows ever really do say "So!" I had always thought it was just a thingyou read in books. Like "Quotha!" I mean to say, or "Odds bodikins!" oreven "Eh, ba goom!"

  Still, there it was. Quaint or not quaint, bizarre or not bizarre, he hadsaid "So!" and it was up to me to cope with the situation on those lines.

  It would have been a duller man than Bertram Wooster who had failed tonote that the dear old chap was a bit steamed up. Whether his eyes wereactually shooting forth flame, I couldn't tell you, but there appeared tome to be a distinct incandescence. For the rest, his fists were clenched,his ears quivering, and the muscles of his jaw rotating rhythmically, asif he were making an early supper off something.

  His hair was full of twigs, and there was a beetle hanging to the side ofhis head which would have interested Gussie Fink-Nottle. To this,however, I paid scant attention. There is a time for studying beetles anda time for not studying beetles.

  "So!" he said again.

  Now, those who know Bertram Wooster best will tell you that he is alwaysat his shrewdest and most level-headed in moments of peril. Who was itwho, when gripped by the arm of the law on boat-race night not so manyyears ago and hauled off to Vine Street police station, assumed in aflash the identity of Eustace H. Plimsoll, of The Laburnums, Alleyn Road,West Dulwich, thus saving the grand old name of Wooster from beingdragged in the mire and avoiding wide publicity of the wrong sort? Whowas it ...

  But I need not labour the point. My record speaks for itself. Three timespinched, but never once sentenced under the correct label. Ask anyone atthe Drones about this.

  So now, in a situation threatening to become every moment more scaly, Idid not lose my head. I preserved the old sang-froid. Smiling a genialand affectionate smile, and hoping that it wasn't too dark for it toregister, I spoke with a jolly cordiality:

  "Why, hallo, Tuppy. You here?"

  He said, yes, he was here.

  "Been here long?"

  "I have."

  "Fine. I wanted to see you."

  "Well, here I am. Come out from behind that bench."

  "No, thanks, old man. I like leaning on it. It seems to rest the spine."

  "In about two seconds," said Tuppy, "I'm going to kick your spine upthrough the top of your head."

  I raised the eyebrows. Not much good, of course, in that light, but itseemed to help the general composition.

  "Is this Hildebrand Glossop speaking?" I said.

  He replied that it was, adding that if I wanted to make sure I might movea few feet over in his direction. He also called me an opprobrious name.

  I raised the eyebrows again.

  "Come, come, Tuppy, don't let us let this little chat become acrid. Is'acrid' the word I want?"

  "I couldn't say," he replied, beginning to sidle round the bench.

  I saw that anything I might wish to say must be said quickly. Already hehad sidled some six feet. And though, by dint of sidling, too, I hadmanaged to keep the bench between us, who could predict how long thishappy state of affairs would last?

  I came to the point, therefore.

  "I think I know what's on your mind, Tuppy," I said. "If you were inthose bushes during my conversation with the recent Angela, I dare sayyou heard what I was saying about you."

  "I did."

  "I see. Well, we won't go into the ethics of the thing. Eavesdropping,some people might call it, and I can imagine stern critics drawing in thebreath to some extent. Considering it--I don't want to hurt yourfeelings, Tuppy--but considering it un-English. A bit un-English, Tuppy,old man, you must admit."

  "I'm Scotch."

  "Really?" I said. "I never knew that before. Rummy how you don't suspecta man of being Scotch unless he's Mac-something and says 'Och, aye' andthings like that. I wonder," I went on, feeling that an academicdiscussion on some neutral topic might ease the tension, "if you can tellme something that has puzzled me a good deal. What exactly is it thatthey put into haggis? I've often wondered about that."

  From the fact that his only response to the question was to leap over thebench and make a grab at me, I gathered that his mind was not on haggis.

  "However," I said, leaping over the bench in my turn, "that is a sideissue. If, to come back to it, you were in those bushes and heard what Iwas saying about you----"

  He began to move round the bench in a nor'-nor'-easterly direction. Ifollowed his example, setting a course sou'-sou'-west.

  "No doubt you were surprised at the way I was talking."

  "Not a bit."

  "What? Did nothing strike you as odd in the tone of my remarks?"

  "It was just the sort of stuff I should have expected a treacherous,sneaking hound like you to say."

  "My dear chap," I protested, "this is not your usual form. A bit slow inthe uptake, surely? I should have thought you would have spotted rightaway that it was all part of a well-laid plan."

  "I'll get you in a jiffy," said Tuppy, recovering his balance after aswift clutch at my neck. And so probable did this seem that I delayed nolonger, but hastened to place all the facts before him.

  Speaking rapidly and keeping moving, I related my emotions on receipt ofAunt Dahlia's telegram, my instant rush to the scene of the disaster, mymeditations in the car, and the eventual framing of this well-laid planof mine. I spoke clearly and well, and it was with considerable concern,consequently, that I heard him observe--between clenched teeth, whichmade it worse--that he didn't believe a damned word of it.

  "But, Tuppy," I said, "why not? To me the thing rings true to the lastdrop. What makes you sceptical? Confide in me, Tuppy."

  He halted and stood taking a breather. Tuppy, pungently though Angelamight have argued to the contrary, isn't really fat. During the wintermonths you will find him constantly booting the football with merryshouts, and in the summer the tennis racket is seldom out of his hand.

  But at the recently concluded evening meal, feeling, no doubt, that afterthat painful scene in the larder there was nothing to be gained byfurther abstinence, he had rather let himself go and, as it were, made upleeway; and after really immersing himself in one of Anatole's dinners, aman of his sturdy build tends to lose elasticity a bit. During theexposition of my plans for his happiness a certain animation had creptinto this round-and-round-the mulberry-bush jamboree of ours--so much so,indeed, that for the last few minutes we might have been a ratheroversized greyhound and a somewhat slimmer electric hare doing theirstuff on a circular track for the entertainment of the many-headed.

  This, it appeared, had taken it out of him a bit, and I was notdispleased. I was feeling the strain myself, and welcomed a lull.

  "It absolutely beats me why you don't believe it," I said. "You knowwe've been pals for years. You must be aware that, except at the momentwhen you caused me to do a nose dive into the Drones' swimming bath, anincident which I long since decided to put out of my mind and let thedead past bury its dead about, if you follow what I mean--except on thatone occasion, as I say, I have always regarded you with the utmostesteem. Why, then, if not for the motives I have outlined, should I knockyou to Angela? Answer me that. Be very careful."

  "What do you mean, be very careful?"

  Well, as a matter of fact, I didn't quite know myself. It was what themagistrate had said to me on the occas
ion when I stood in the dock asEustace Plimsoll, of The Laburnums: and as it had impressed me a gooddeal at the time, I just bunged it in now by way of giving theconversation a tone.

  "All right. Never mind about being careful, then. Just answer me thatquestion. Why, if I had not your interests sincerely at heart, should Ihave ticked you off, as stated?"

  A sharp spasm shook him from base to apex. The beetle, which, during therecent exchanges, had been clinging to his head, hoping for the best,gave it up at this and resigned office. It shot off and was swallowed inthe night.

  "Ah!" I said. "Your beetle," I explained. "No doubt you were unaware ofit, but all this while there has been a beetle of sorts parked on theside of your head. You have now dislodged it."

  He snorted.

  "Beetles!"

  "Not beetles. One beetle only."

  "I like your crust!" cried Tuppy, vibrating like one of Gussie's newtsduring the courting season. "Talking of beetles, when all the time youknow you're a treacherous, sneaking hound."

  It was a debatable point, of course, why treacherous, sneaking houndsshould be considered ineligible to talk about beetles, and I dare say agood cross-examining counsel would have made quite a lot of it.

  But I let it go.

  "That's the second time you've called me that. And," I said firmly, "Iinsist on an explanation. I have told you that I acted throughout fromthe best and kindliest motives in roasting you to Angela. It cut me tothe quick to have to speak like that, and only the recollection of ourlifelong friendship would have made me do it. And now you say you don'tbelieve me and call me names for which I am not sure I couldn't have youup before a beak and jury and mulct you in very substantial damages. Ishould have to consult my solicitor, of course, but it would surprise mevery much if an action did not lie. Be reasonable, Tuppy. Suggest anothermotive I could have had. Just one."

  "I will. Do you think I don't know? You're in love with Angela yourself."

  "What?"

  "And you knocked me in order to poison her mind against me and finallyremove me from your path."

  I had never heard anything so absolutely loopy in my life. Why, dash it,I've known Angela since she was so high. You don't fall in love withclose relations you've known since they were so high. Besides, isn'tthere something in the book of rules about a man may not marry hiscousin? Or am I thinking of grandmothers?

  "Tuppy, my dear old ass," I cried, "this is pure banana oil! You've comeunscrewed."

  "Oh, yes?"

  "Me in love with Angela? Ha-ha!"

  "You can't get out of it with ha-ha's. She called you 'darling'."

  "I know. And I disapproved. This habit of the younger g. of scattering'darlings' about like birdseed is one that I deprecate. Lax, is how Ishould describe it."

  "You tickled her ankles."

  "In a purely cousinly spirit. It didn't mean a thing. Why, dash it, youmust know that in the deeper and truer sense I wouldn't touch Angela witha barge pole."

  "Oh? And why not? Not good enough for you?"

  "You misunderstand me," I hastened to reply. "When I say I wouldn't touchAngela with a barge pole, I intend merely to convey that my feelingstowards her are those of distant, though cordial, esteem. In other words,you may rest assured that between this young prune and myself there neverhas been and never could be any sentiment warmer and stronger than thatof ordinary friendship."

  "I believe it was you who tipped her off that I was in the larder lastnight, so that she could find me there with that pie, thus damaging myprestige."

  "My dear Tuppy! A Wooster?" I was shocked. "You think a Wooster would dothat?"

  He breathed heavily.

  "Listen," he said. "It's no good your standing there arguing. You can'tget away from the facts. Somebody stole her from me at Cannes. You toldme yourself that she was with you all the time at Cannes and hardly sawanybody else. You gloated over the mixed bathing, and those moonlightwalks you had together----"

  "Not gloated. Just mentioned them."

  "So now you understand why, as soon as I can get you clear of this damnedbench, I am going to tear you limb from limb. Why they have these ballybenches in gardens," said Tuppy discontentedly, "is more than I can see.They only get in the way."

  He ceased, and, grabbing out, missed me by a hair's breadth.

  It was a moment for swift thinking, and it is at such moments, as I havealready indicated, that Bertram Wooster is at his best. I suddenlyremembered the recent misunderstanding with the Bassett, and with a flashof clear vision saw that this was where it was going to come in handy.

  "You've got it all wrong, Tuppy," I said, moving to the left. "True, Isaw a lot of Angela, but my dealings with her were on a basis from startto finish of the purest and most wholesome camaraderie. I can prove it.During that sojourn in Cannes my affections were engaged elsewhere."

  "What?"

  "Engaged elsewhere. My affections. During that sojourn."

  I had struck the right note. He stopped sidling. His clutching hand fellto his side.

  "Is that true?"

  "Quite official."

  "Who was she?"

  "My dear Tuppy, does one bandy a woman's name?"

  "One does if one doesn't want one's ruddy head pulled off."

  I saw that it was a special case.

  "Madeline Bassett," I said.

  "Who?"

  "Madeline Bassett."

  He seemed stunned.

  "You stand there and tell me you were in love with that Bassettdisaster?"

  "I wouldn't call her 'that Bassett disaster', Tuppy. Not respectful."

  "Dash being respectful. I want the facts. You deliberately assert thatyou loved that weird Gawd-help-us?"

  "I don't see why you should call her a weird Gawd-help-us, either. A verycharming and beautiful girl. Odd in some of her views perhaps--one doesnot quite see eye to eye with her in the matter of stars and rabbits--butnot a weird Gawd-help-us."

  "Anyway, you stick to it that you were in love with her?"

  "I do."

  "It sounds thin to me, Wooster, very thin."

  I saw that it would be necessary to apply the finishing touch.

  "I must ask you to treat this as entirely confidential, Glossop, but Imay as well inform you that it is not twenty-four hours since she turnedme down."

  "Turned you down?"

  "Like a bedspread. In this very garden."

  "Twenty-four hours?"

  "Call it twenty-five. So you will readily see that I can't be the chap,if any, who stole Angela from you at Cannes."

  And I was on the brink of adding that I wouldn't touch Angela with abarge pole, when I remembered I had said it already and it hadn't gonefrightfully well. I desisted, therefore.

  My manly frankness seemed to be producing good results. The homicidalglare was dying out of Tuppy's eyes. He had the aspect of a hiredassassin who had paused to think things over.

  "I see," he said, at length. "All right, then. Sorry you were troubled."

  "Don't mention it, old man," I responded courteously.

  For the first time since the bushes had begun to pour forth Glossops,Bertram Wooster could be said to have breathed freely. I don't say Iactually came out from behind the bench, but I did let go of it, and withsomething of the relief which those three chaps in the Old Testament musthave experienced after sliding out of the burning fiery furnace, I evengroped tentatively for my cigarette case.

  The next moment a sudden snort made me take my fingers off it as if ithad bitten me. I was distressed to note in the old friend a return of therecent frenzy.

  "What the hell did you mean by telling her that I used to be covered withink when I was a kid?"

  "My dear Tuppy----"

  "I was almost finickingly careful about my personal cleanliness as a boy.You could have eaten your dinner off me."

  "Quite. But----"

  "And all that stuff about having no soul. I'm crawling with soul. Andbeing looked on as an outsider at the Drones----"

  "But
, my dear old chap, I explained that. It was all part of my ruse orscheme."

  "It was, was it? Well, in future do me a favour and leave me out of yourfoul ruses."

  "Just as you say, old boy."

  "All right, then. That's understood."

  He relapsed into silence, standing with folded arms, staring before himrather like a strong, silent man in a novel when he's just been given thebird by the girl and is thinking of looking in at the Rocky Mountains andbumping off a few bears. His manifest pippedness excited my compash, andI ventured a kindly word.

  "I don't suppose you know what _au pied de la lettre_ means, Tuppy, butthat's how I don't think you ought to take all that stuff Angela wassaying just now too much."

  He seemed interested.

  "What the devil," he asked, "are you talking about?"

  I saw that I should have to make myself clearer.

  "Don't take all that guff of hers too literally, old man. You know whatgirls are like."

  "I do," he said, with another snort that came straight up from hisinsteps. "And I wish I'd never met one."

  "I mean to say, it's obvious that she must have spotted you in thosebushes and was simply talking to score off you. There you were, I mean,if you follow the psychology, and she saw you, and in that impulsive waygirls have, she seized the opportunity of ribbing you a bit--just toldyou a few home truths, I mean to say."

  "Home truths?"

  "That's right."

  He snorted once more, causing me to feel rather like royalty receiving atwenty-one gun salute from the fleet. I can't remember ever having met abetter right-and-left-hand snorter.

  "What do you mean, 'home truths'? I'm not fat."

  "No, no."

  "And what's wrong with the colour of my hair?"

  "Quite in order, Tuppy, old man. The hair, I mean."

  "And I'm not a bit thin on the top.... What the dickens are you grinningabout?"

  "Not grinning. Just smiling slightly. I was conjuring up a sort ofvision, if you know what I mean, of you as seen through Angela's eyes.Fat in the middle and thin on the top. Rather funny."

  "You think it funny, do you?"

  "Not a bit."

  "You'd better not."

  "Quite."

  It seemed to me that the conversation was becoming difficult again. Iwished it could be terminated. And so it was. For at this momentsomething came shimmering through the laurels in the quiet evenfall, andI perceived that it was Angela.

  She was looking sweet and saintlike, and she had a plate of sandwiches inher hand. Ham, I was to discover later.

  "If you see Mr. Glossop anywhere, Bertie," she said, her eyes restingdreamily on Tuppy's facade, "I wish you would give him these. I'm soafraid he may be hungry, poor fellow. It's nearly ten o'clock, and hehasn't eaten a morsel since dinner. I'll just leave them on this bench."

  She pushed off, and it seemed to me that I might as well go with her.Nothing to keep me here, I mean. We moved towards the house, andpresently from behind us there sounded in the night the splintering crashof a well-kicked plate of ham sandwiches, accompanied by the muffledoaths of a strong man in his wrath.

  "How still and peaceful everything is," said Angela.