The Intrusion of Jimmy

by P. G. Wodehouse

  CHAPTER XI

  AT THE TURN OF THE ROAD

  Next morning, when Jimmy, having sent Spike off to the tailor's,with instructions to get a haircut en route, was dealing with acombination of breakfast and luncheon at his flat, Lord Dreevercalled.

  "Thought I should find you in," observed his lordship. "Well,laddie, how goes it? Having breakfast? Eggs and bacon! Great Scott!I couldn't touch a thing."

  The statement was borne out by his looks. The son of a hundred earlswas pale, and his eyes were markedly fish-like.

  "A fellow I've got stopping with me--taking him down to Dreever withme to-day--man I met at the club--fellow named Hargate. Don't knowif you know him? No? Well, he was still up when I got back lastnight, and we stayed up playing billiards--he's rotten at billiards;something frightful: I give him twenty--till five this morning. Ifeel fearfully cheap. Wouldn't have got up at all, only I'm due tocatch the two-fifteen down to Dreever. It's the only good train." Hedropped into a chair.

  "Sorry you don't feel up to breakfast," said Jimmy, helping himselfto marmalade. "I am generally to be found among those lining up whenthe gong goes. I've breakfasted on a glass of water and a bag ofbird-seed in my time. That sort of thing makes you ready to takewhatever you can get. Seen the paper?"

  "Thanks."

  Jimmy finished his breakfast, and lighted a pipe. Lord Dreever laiddown the paper.

  "I say," he said, "what I came round about was this. What have yougot on just now?"

  Jimmy had imagined that his friend had dropped in to return thefive-pound note he had borrowed, but his lordship maintained acomplete reserve on the subject. Jimmy was to discover later thatthis weakness of memory where financial obligations were concernedwas a leading trait in Lord Dreever's character.

  "To-day, do you mean?" said Jimmy.

  "Well, in the near future. What I mean is, why not put off thatJapan trip you spoke about, and come down to Dreever with me?"

  Jimmy reflected. After all, Japan or Dreever, it made very littledifference. And it would be interesting to see a place about whichhe had read so much.

  "That's very good of you," he said. "You're sure it will be allright? It won't be upsetting your arrangements?"

  "Not a bit. The more the merrier. Can you catch the two-fifteen?It's fearfully short notice."

  "Heavens, yes. I can pack in ten minutes. Thanks very much."

  "Good business. There'll be shooting and all that sort of rot. Oh,and by the way, are you any good at acting? I mean, there are goingto be private theatricals of sorts. A man called Charteris insistedon getting them up--always getting up theatricals. Rot, I call it;but you can't stop him. Do you do anything in that line?"

  "Put me down for what you like, from Emperor of Morocco to ConfusedNoise Without. I was on the stage once. I'm particularly good atshifting scenery."

  "Good for you. Well, so long. Two-fifteen from Paddington, remember.I'll meet you there. I've got to go and see a fellow now."

  "I'll look out for you."

  A sudden thought occurred to Jimmy. Spike! He had forgotten Spikefor the moment. It was vital that the Bowery boy should not be lostsight of again. He was the one link with the little house somewherebeyond One Hundred and Fiftieth Street. He could not leave theBowery boy at the flat. A vision rose in his mind of Spike alone inLondon, with Savoy Mansions as a base for his operations. No, Spikemust be transplanted to the country. But Jimmy could not seem to seeSpike in the country. His boredom would probably be pathetic. But itwas the only way.

  Lord Dreever facilitated matters.

  "By the way, Pitt," he said, "you've got a man of sorts, of course?One of those frightful fellows who forgot to pack your collars?Bring him along, of course."

  "Thanks," said Jimmy. "I will."

  The matter had scarcely been settled when the door opened, andrevealed the subject of discussion. Wearing a broad grin of mingledpride and bashfulness, and looking very stiff and awkward in one ofthe brightest tweed suits ever seen off the stage, Spike stood for amoment in the doorway to let his appearance sink into the spectator,then advanced into the room.

  "How do dese strike you, boss?" he inquired genially, as LordDreever gaped in astonishment at this bright being.

  "Pretty nearly blind, Spike," said Jimmy. "What made you get those?We use electric light here."

  Spike was full of news.

  "Say, boss, dat clothin'-store's a willy wonder, sure. De old mugwhat showed me round give me de frozen face when I come in foist.'What's doin'?' he says. 'To de woods wit' you. Git de hook!' But Ihauls out de plunks you give me, an' tells him how I'm here to get adude suit, an', gee! if he don't haul out suits by de mile. Give mea toist, it did, watching him. 'It's up to youse,' says de mug.'Choose somet'in'. You pays de money, an' we does de rest.' So, Isays dis is de one, an' I put down de plunks, an' here I am, boss."

  "I noticed that, Spike," said Jimmy. "I could see you in the dark."

  "Don't you like de duds, boss?" inquired Spike, anxiously.

  "They're great," said Jimmy. "You'd make Solomon in all his glorylook like a tramp 'cyclist."

  "Dat's right," agreed Spike. "Dey'se de limit."

  And, apparently oblivious to the presence of Lord Dreever, who hadbeen watching him in blank silence since his entrance, the Boweryboy proceeded to execute a mysterious shuffling dance on the carpet.

  This was too much for the overwrought brain of his lordship.

  "Good-bye, Pitt," he said, "I'm off. Got to see a man."

  Jimmy saw his guest to the door.

  Outside, Lord Dreever placed the palm of his right hand on hisforehead.

  "I say, Pitt," he said.

  "Hullo?"

  "Who the devil's that?"

  "Who? Spike? Oh, that's my man."

  "Your man! Is he always like that? I mean, going on like a frightfulmusic-hall comedian? Dancing, you know! And, I say, what on earthlanguage was that he was talking? I couldn't understand one word inten."

  "Oh, that's American, the Bowery variety."

  "Oh, well, I suppose it's all right if you understand it. Ican't. By gad," he broke off, with a chuckle, "I'd give something tosee him talking to old Saunders, our butler at home. He's got themanners of a duke."

  "Spike should revise those," said Jimmy.

  "What do you call him?"

  "Spike."

  "Rummy name, isn't it?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Short for Algernon."

  "He seemed pretty chummy."

  "That's his independent bringing-up. We're all like that inAmerica."

  "Well, so long."

  "So long."

  On the bottom step, Lord Dreever halted.

  "I say. I've got it!"

  "Good for you. Got what?"

  "Why, I knew I'd seen that chap's face somewhere before, only Icouldn't place him. I've got him now. He's the Johnny who came intothe shelter last night. Chap you gave a quid to."

  Spike's was one of those faces that, without being essentiallybeautiful, stamp themselves on the memory.

  "You're quite right," said Jimmy. "I was wondering if you wouldrecognize him. The fact is, he's a man I once employed over in NewYork, and, when I came across him over here, he was so evidentlywanting a bit of help that I took him on again. As a matter of fact,I needed somebody to look after my things, and Spike can do it aswell as anybody else."

  "I see. Not bad my spotting him, was it? Well, I must be off. Good-bye.Two-fifteen at Paddington. Meet you there. Take a ticket forDreever if you're there before me."

  "Eight. Good-bye."

  Jimmy returned to the dining-room. Spike, who was examining as muchas he could of himself in the glass, turned round with his wontedgrin.

  "Say, who's de gazebo, boss? Ain't he de mug youse was wit' lastnight?"

  "That's the man. We're going down with him to the country to-day,Spike, so be ready."

  "On your way, boss. What's dat?"

  "He has invited us to his country house, and we're going."

  "What? Bot'
of us?"

  "Yes. I told him you were my servant. I hope you aren't offended."

  "Nit. What's dere to be raw about, boss?"

  "That's all right. Well, we'd better be packing. We have to be atthe station at two."

  "Sure."

  "And, Spike!"

  "Yes, boss?"

  "Did you get any other clothes besides what you've got on?"

  "Nit. What do I want wit more dan one dude suit?"

  "I approve of your rugged simplicity," said Jimmy, "but what you'rewearing is a town suit. Excellent for the Park or the Marchioness'sThursday crush, but essentially metropolitan. You must get somethingelse for the country, something dark and quiet. I'll come and helpyou choose it, now."

  "Why, won't dis go in de country?"

  "Not on your life, Spike. It would unsettle the rustic mind. They'refearfully particular about that sort of thing in England."

  "Dey's to de bad," said the baffled disciple of Beau Brummel, withdeep discontent.

  "And there's just one more thing, Spike. I know you'll excuse mymentioning it. When we're at Dreever Castle, you will find yourselfwithin reach of a good deal of silver and other things. Would it betoo much to ask you to forget your professional instincts? Imentioned this before in a general sort of way, but this is aparticular case."

  "Ain't I to get busy at all, den?" queried Spike.

  "Not so much as a salt-spoon," said Jimmy, firmly. "Now, we'llwhistle a cab, and go and choose you some more clothes."

  Accompanied by Spike, who came within an ace of looking almostrespectable in new blue serge ("Small Gent's"--off the peg), Jimmyarrived at Paddington Station with a quarter of an hour to spare.Lord Dreever appeared ten minutes later, accompanied by a man ofabout Jimmy's age. He was tall and thin, with cold eyes and tight,thin lips. His clothes fitted him in the way clothes do fit one manin a thousand. They were the best part of him. His generalappearance gave one the idea that his meals did him little good, andhis meditations rather less. He had practically no conversation.

  This was Lord Dreever's friend, Hargate. Lord Dreever made theintroductions; but, even as they shook hands, Jimmy had animpression that he had seen the man before. Yet, where or in whatcircumstances he could not remember. Hargate appeared to have norecollection of him, so he did not mention the matter. A man who hasled a wandering life often sees faces that come back to him lateron, absolutely detached from their context. He might merely havepassed Lord Dreever's friend on the street. But Jimmy had an ideathat the other had figured in some episode which at the moment hadhad an importance. What that episode was had escaped him. Hedismissed the thing from his mind. It was not worth harrying hismemory about.

  Judicious tipping secured the three a compartment to themselves.Hargate, having read the evening paper, went to sleep in the farcorner. Jimmy and Lord Dreever, who sat opposite each other, fellinto a desultory conversation.

  After awhile, Lord Dreever's remarks took a somewhat intimate turn.Jimmy was one of those men whose manner invites confidences. Hislordship began to unburden his soul of certain facts relating to thefamily.

  "Have you ever met my Uncle Thomas?" he inquired. "You know Blunt'sStores? Well, he's Blunt. It's a company now, but he still runs it.He married my aunt. You'll meet him at Dreever."

  Jimmy said he would be delighted.

  "I bet you won't," said the last of the Dreevers, with candor. "He'sa frightful man--the limit. Always fussing round like a hen. Givesme a fearful time, I can tell you. Look here, I don't mind tellingyou--we're pals--he's dead set on my marrying a rich girl."

  "Well, that sounds all right. There are worse hobbies. Anyparticular rich girl?"

  "There's always one. He sicks me on to one after another. Quite nicegirls, you know, some of them; only, I want to marry somebody else,that girl you saw me with at the Savoy."

  "Why don't you tell your uncle?"

  "He'd have a fit. She hasn't a penny; nor have I, except what I getfrom him. Of course, this is strictly between ourselves."

  "Of course."

  "I know everybody thinks there's money attached to the title; butthere isn't, not a penny. When my Aunt Julia married Sir Thomas, thewhole frightful show was pretty well in pawn. So, you see how itis."

  "Ever think of work?" asked Jimmy.

  "Work?" said Lord Dreever, reflectively. "Well, you know, Ishouldn't mind work, only I'm dashed if I can see what I could do. Ishouldn't know how. Nowadays, you want a fearful specializededucation, and so on. Tell you what, though, I shouldn't mind thediplomatic service. One of these days, I shall have a dash at askingmy uncle to put up the money. I believe I shouldn't be half-bad atthat. I'm rather a quick sort of chap at times, you know. Lots offellows have said so."

  He cleared his throat modestly, and proceeded.

  "It isn't only my Uncle Thomas," he said. "There's Aunt Julia, too.She's about as much the limit as he is. I remember, when I was akid, she was always sitting on me. She does still. Wait till you seeher. Sort of woman who makes you feel that your hands are the colorof tomatoes and the size of legs of mutton, if you know what I mean.And talks as if she were biting at you. Frightful!"

  Having unburdened himself of these criticisms, Lord Dreever yawned,leaned back, and was presently asleep.

  It was about an hour later that the train, which had been takingitself less seriously for some time, stopping at stations of quiteminor importance and generally showing a tendency to dawdle, haltedagain. A board with the legend, "Dreever," in large letters showedthat they had reached their destination.

  The station-master informed Lord Dreever that her ladyship had cometo meet the train in the motorcar, and was now waiting in the roadoutside.

  Lord Dreever's jaw fell.

  "Oh, lord!" he said. "She's probably motored in to get the afternoonletters. That means, she's come in the runabout, and there's onlyroom for two of us in that. I forgot to telegraph that you werecoming, Pitt. I only wired about Hargate. Dash it, I shall have towalk."

  His fears proved correct. The car at the station door was small. Itwas obviously designed to seat four only.

  Lord Dreever introduced Hargate and Jimmy to the statuesque lady inthe tonneau; and then there was an awkward silence.

  At this point, Spike came up, chuckling amiably, with a magazine inhis hand.

  "Gee!" said Spike. "Say, boss, de mug what wrote dis piece must havebin livin' out in de woods. Say, dere's a gazebo what wants to swipede heroine's jools what's locked in a drawer. So, dis mug, what 'doyou t'ink he does?" Spike laughed shortly, in professional scorn."Why--"

  "Is this gentleman a friend of yours, Spennie?" inquired LadyJulia politely, eying the red-haired speaker coldly.

  "It's--" Spennie looked appealingly at Jimmy.

  "It's my man," said Jimmy. "Spike," he added in an undertone, "tothe woods. Chase yourself. Fade away."

  "Sure," said the abashed Spike. "Dat's right. It ain't up to me tocome buttin' in. Sorry, boss. Sorry, gents. Sorry loidy. Me for detall grass."

  "There's a luggage-cart of sorts," said Lord Dreever, pointing.

  "Sure," said Spike, affably. He trotted away.

  "Jump in, Pitt," said Lord Dreever. "I'm going to walk."

  "No, I'll walk," said Jimmy. "I'd rather. I want a bit of exercise.Which way do I go?"

  "Frightfully good of you, old chap," said Lord Dreever. "Sure youdon't mind? I do bar walking. Right-ho! You keep straight on."

  He sat down in the tonneau by his aunt's side. The last Jimmy sawwas a hasty vision of him engaged in earnest conversation with LadyJulia. He did not seem to be enjoying himself. Nobody is at his bestin conversation with a lady whom he knows to be possessed of a firmbelief in the weakness of his intellect. A prolonged conversationwith Lady Julia always made Lord Dreever feel as if he were beingtied into knots.

  Jimmy watched them out of sight, and started to follow at aleisurely pace. It certainly was an ideal afternoon for a countrywalk. The sun was just hesitating whether to treat the time asafternoon or evening. Eventual
ly, it decided that it was evening,and moderated its beams. After London, the country was deliciouslyfresh and cool. Jimmy felt an unwonted content. It seemed to himjust then that the only thing worth doing in the world was to settledown somewhere with three acres and a cow, and become pastoral.

  There was a marked lack of traffic on the road. Once he met a cart,and once a flock of sheep with a friendly dog. Sometimes, a rabbitwould dash out into the road, stop to listen, and dart into theopposite hedge, all hind-legs and white scut. But, except for these,he was alone in the world.

  And, gradually, there began to be borne in upon him the convictionthat he had lost his way.

  It is difficult to judge distance when one is walking, but itcertainly seemed to Jimmy that he must have covered five miles bythis time. He must have mistaken the way. He had doubtless comestraight. He could not have come straighter. On the other hand, itwould be quite in keeping with the cheap substitute which served theEarl of Dreever in place of a mind that he should have forgotten tomention some important turning. Jimmy sat down by the roadside.

  As he sat, there came to him from down the road the sound of ahorse's feet, trotting. He got up. Here was somebody at last whowould direct him.

  The sound came nearer. The horse turned the corner; and Jimmy sawwith surprise that it bore no rider.

  "Hullo?" he said. "Accident? And, by Jove, a side-saddle!"

  The curious part of it was that the horse appeared in no way a wildhorse. It gave the impression of being out for a little trot on itsown account, a sort of equine constitutional.

  Jimmy stopped the horse, and led it back the way it had come. As heturned the bend in the road, he saw a girl in a riding-habit runningtoward him. She stopped running when she caught sight of him, andslowed down to a walk.

  "Thank you ever so much," she said, taking the reins from him."Dandy, you naughty old thing! I got off to pick up my crop, and heran away."

  Jimmy looked at her flushed, smiling face, and stood staring.

  It was Molly McEachern.