The Intrusion of Jimmy

by P. G. Wodehouse

  CHAPTER XXII

  TWO OF A TRADE DISAGREE

  "One hundred t'ousand plunks," murmured Spike, gazing lovingly atthem. "I says to myself, de boss ain't got no time to be gittin'after dem himself. He's too busy dese days wit' jollyin' along deswells. So, it's up to me, I says, 'cos de boss'll be tickled todeat', all right, all right, if we can git away wit' dem. So, I--"

  Jimmy gave tongue with an energy that amazed his faithful follower.The nightmare horror of the situation had affected him much as asudden blow in the parts about the waistcoat might have done. But,now, as Spike would have said, he caught up with his breath. Thesmirk faded slowly from the other's face as he listened. Not even inthe Bowery, full as it was of candid friends, had he listened tosuch a trenchant summing-up of his mental and moral deficiencies.

  "Boss!" he protested.

  "That's just a sketchy outline," said Jimmy, pausing for breath. "Ican't do you justice impromptu like this--you're too vast andoverwhelming."

  "But, boss, what's eatin' you? Ain't youse tickled?"

  "Tickled!" Jimmy sawed the air. "Tickled! You lunatic! Can't you seewhat you've done?"

  "I've got dem," said Spike, whose mind was not readily receptive ofnew ideas. It seemed to him that Jimmy missed the main point.

  "Didn't I tell you there was nothing doing when you wanted to takethose things the other day?"

  Spike's face cleared. As he had suspected, Jimmy had missed thepoint.

  "Why, say, boss, yes. Sure! But dose was little, dinky t'ings. Ofcourse, youse wouldn't stand fer swipin' chicken-feed like dem. Butdese is different. Dese di'monds is boids. It's one hundred t'ousandplunks fer dese."

  "Spike," said Jimmy with painful calm.

  "Huh?"

  "Will you listen for a moment?"

  "Sure."

  "I know it's practically hopeless. To get an idea into your head,one wants a proper outfit--drills, blasting-powder, and so on. Butthere's just a chance, perhaps, if I talk slowly. Has it occurred toyou, Spike, my bonny, blue-eyed Spike, that every other man, more orless, in this stately home of England, is a detective who hasprobably received instructions to watch you like a lynx? Do youimagine that your blameless past is a sufficient safeguard? Isuppose you think that these detectives will say to themselves,'Now, whom shall we suspect? We must leave out Spike Mullins, ofcourse, because he naturally wouldn't dream of doing such a thing.It can't be dear old Spike who's got the stuff.'"

  "But, boss," interposed Spike brightly, "I ain't! Dat's right. Iain't got it. Youse has!"

  Jimmy looked at the speaker with admiration. After all, there was abreezy delirium about Spike's methods of thought that was ratherstimulating when you got used to it. The worst of it was that it didnot fit in with practical, everyday life. Under differentconditions--say, during convivial evenings at Bloomingdale--he couldimagine the Bowery boy being a charming companion. How pleasantly,for instance, such remarks as that last would while away themonotony of a padded cell!

  "But, laddie," he said with steely affection, "listen once more.Reflect! Ponder! Does it not seep into your consciousness that weare, as it were, subtly connected in this house in the minds ofcertain bad persons? Are we not imagined by Mr. McEachern, forinstance, to be working hand-in-hand like brothers? Do you fancythat Mr. McEachern, chatting with his tame sleuth-hound over theircigars, will have been reticent on this point? I think not. How doyou propose to baffle that gentlemanly sleuth, Spike, who, I maymention once again, has rarely moved more than two yards away fromme since his arrival?"

  An involuntary chuckle escaped Spike.

  "Sure, boss, dat's all right."

  "All right, is it? Well, well! What makes you think it is allright?"

  "Why, say, boss, dose sleut's is out of business." A merry grinsplit Spike's face. "It's funny, boss. Gee! It's got a circusskinned! Listen. Dey's bin an' arrest each other."

  Jimmy moodily revised his former view. Even in Bloomingdale, thissort of thing would be coldly received. Genius must ever walk alone.Spike would have to get along without hope of meeting a kindredspirit, another fellow-being in tune with his brain-processes.

  "Dat's right," chuckled Spike. "Leastways, it ain't."

  "No, no," said Jimmy, soothingly. "I quite understand."

  "It's dis way, boss. One of dem has bin an' arrest de odder mug. Deyhad a scrap, each t'inkin' de odder guy was after de jools, an' notknowin' dey was bot' sleut's, an' now one of dem's bin an' taken deodder off, an'"--there were tears of innocent joy in Spike's eyes--"an'locked him into de coal-cellar."

  "What on earth do you mean?"

  Spike giggled helplessly.

  "Listen, boss. It's dis way. Gee! It beat de band! When it's alldark 'cos of de storm comin' on, I'm in de dressin'-room, chasin'around fer de jool-box, an' just as I gits a line on it, gee! Ihears a footstep comin' down de passage, very soft, straight fer dedoor. Was I to de bad? Dat's right. I says to meself, here's one ofde sleut' guys what's bin and got wise to me, an' he's comin' in toput de grip on me. So, I gits up quick, an' I hides behind acoitain. Dere's a coitain at de side of de room. Dere's dude suitsan' t'ings hangin' behind it. I chases meself in dere, and standswaitin' fer de sleut' to come in. 'Cos den, you see, I'm goin' totry an' get busy before he can see who I am--it's pretty dark 'cosof de storm--an' jolt him one on de point of de jaw, an' den, whilehe's down an' out, chase meself fer de soivants' hall."

  "Yes?" said Jimmy.

  "Well, dis guy, he gits to de door, an' opens it, an' I'm justgittin' ready fer one sudden boist of speed, when dere jumps outfrom de room on de odder side de passage--you know de room--anodderguy, an' gits de rapid strangleholt on de foist mug. Say, wouldn'tdat make youse glad you hadn't gone to de circus? Honest, it wasbetter dan Coney Island."

  "Go on. What happened then?"

  "Dey falls to scrappin' good an' hard. Dey couldn't see me, an' Icouldn't see dem, but I could hear dem bumpin' about and sluggin'each other to beat de band. An', by and by, one of de mugs puts doodder mug to de bad, so dat he goes down and takes de count; an' denI hears a click. An' I know what dat is. It's one of de gazebos hasput de irons on de odder gazebo."

  "Call them A, and B," suggested Jimmy.

  "Den I hears him--de foist mug--strike a light, 'cos it's dark dere'cos of de storm, an' den he says, 'Got youse, have I?' he says.'I've had my eye on youse, t'inkin' youse was up to somet'in' of diskind. I've bin watching youse!' I knew de voice. It's dat mug whatcalls himself Sir Tummas' vally. An' de odder--"

  Jimmy burst into a roar of laughter.

  "Don't, Spike! This is more than man was meant to stand. Do you meanto tell me it is my bright, brainy, persevering friend Galer who hasbeen handcuffed and locked in the coal-cellar?"

  Spike grinned broadly.

  "Sure, dat's right," he said.

  "It's a judgment," said Jimmy, delightedly. "That's what it is! Noman has a right to be such a consummate ass as Galer. It isn'tdecent."

  There had been moments when McEachern's faithful employee had filledJimmy with an odd sort of fury, a kind of hurt pride, almost to theextent of making him wish that he really could have been thedesperado McEachern fancied him. Never in his life before had he satstill under a challenge, and this espionage had been one. Behind theclumsy watcher, he had seen always the self-satisfied figure ofMcEachern. If there had been anything subtle about the man fromDodson's, he could have forgiven him; but there was not. Years ofpractise had left Spike with a sort of sixth sense as regardedrepresentatives of the law. He could pierce the most cunningdisguise. But, in the case of Galer, even Jimmy could detect thedetective.

  "Go on," he said.

  Spike proceeded.

  "Well, de odder mug, de one down an' out on de floor wit' de ironson--"

  "Galer, in fact," said Jimmy. "Handsome, dashing Galer!"

  "Sure. Well, he's too busy catchin' up wit' his breat' to shoot itback swift, but, after he's bin doin' de deep-breathin' strut for awhile, he says, 'You mutt,' he says, 'youse is to de bad. You'vemade a brea
k, you have. Dat's right. Surest t'ing you know.' He putsit different, but dat's what he means. 'I'm a sleut', he says. 'Takedese t'ings off!'--meanin' de irons. Does de odder mug, de vallygazebo, give him de glad eye? Not so's you could notice it. He giveshim de merry ha-ha. He says dat dat's de woist tale dat's ever binhanded to him. 'Tell it to Sweeney!' he says. 'I knows youse. Yousewoims yourself into de house as a guest, when youse is really afterde loidy's jools.' At dese crool woids, de odder mug, Galer, gitshot under de collar. 'I'm a sure-'nough sleut',' he says. 'I blowsinto dis house at de special request of Mr. McEachern, de Americangent.' De odder mug hands de lemon again. 'Tell it to de King ofDenmark,' he says. 'Dis cop's de limit. Youse has enough gall ferten strong men,' he says. 'Show me to Mr. McEachern,' says Galer.'He'll--' crouch, is dat it?"

  "Vouch?" suggested Jimmy. "Meaning give the glad hand to."

  "Dat's right. Vouch. I wondered what he meant at de time. 'He'llvouch for me,' he says. Dat puts him all right, he t'inks; but no,he's still in Dutch, 'cos de vally mug says, 'Nix on dat! I ain'tgoin' to chase around de house wit' youse, lookin' fer Mr.McEachern. It's youse fer de coal-cellar, me man, an' we'll see whatyouse has to say when I makes me report to Sir Tummas.' 'Well, dat'sto de good,' says Galer. 'Tell Sir Tummas. I'll explain to him.''Not me!' says de vally. 'Sir Tummas has a hard evenin's woik beforehim, jollyin' along de swells what's comin' to see dis stoige-piecedey're actin'. I ain't goin' to worry him till he's good and ready.To de coal-cellar fer yours! G'wan!' an' off dey goes! An' I gitsbusy ag'in, swipes de jools, an' chases meself here."

  Jimmy wiped his eyes.

  "Have you ever heard of poetic justice, Spike?" he asked. "This isit. But, in this hour of mirth and good-will, we must not forget--"

  Spike interrupted. Pleased by the enthusiastic reception of hisnarrative, he proceeded to point out the morals that were to bededuced there-from.

  "So, youse see, boss," he said, "it's all to de merry. When deyrubbers for de jools, an' finds dem gone, dey'll t'ink dis Galer guyswiped dem. Dey won't t'ink of us."

  Jimmy looked at the speaker gravely.

  "Of course," said he. "What a reasoner you are, Spike! Galer wasjust opening the door from the outside, by your account, when thevalet man sprang at him. Naturally, they'll think that he took thejewels. Especially, as they won't find them on him. A man who canopen a locked safe through a closed door is just the sort of fellowwho would be able to get rid of the swag neatly while rolling aboutthe floor with the valet. His not having the jewels will make thecase all the blacker against him. And what will make them still morecertain that he is the thief is that he really is a detective.Spike, you ought to be in some sort of a home, you know."

  The Bowery boy looked disturbed.

  "I didn't t'ink of dat, boss," he admitted.

  "Of course not. One can't think of everything. Now, if you will justhand me those diamonds, I will put them back where they belong."

  "Put dem back, boss!"

  "What else would you propose? I'd get you to do it, only I don'tthink putting things back is quite in your line."

  Spike handed over the jewels. The boss was the boss, and what hesaid went. But his demeanor was tragic, telling eloquently of hopesblighted.

  Jimmy took the necklace with something of a thrill. He was aconnoisseur of jewels, and a fine gem affected him much as a finepicture affects the artistic. He ran the diamonds through hisfingers, then scrutinized them again, more closely this time.

  Spike watched him with a slight return of hope. It seemed to himthat the boss was wavering. Perhaps, now that he had actuallyhandled the jewels, he would find it impossible to give them up. ToSpike, a diamond necklace of cunning workmanship was merely theequivalent of so many "plunks"; but he knew that there were men,otherwise sane, who valued a jewel for its own sake.

  "It's a boid of a necklace, boss," he murmured, encouragingly.

  "It is," said Jimmy; "in its way, I've never seen anything muchbetter. Sir Thomas will be glad to have it back."

  "Den, you're goin' to put it back, boss?"

  "I am," said Jimmy. "I'll do it just before the theatricals. Thereshould be a chance, then. There's one good thing. This afternoon'saffair will have cleared the air of sleuth-hounds a little."