The Intrusion of Jimmy

by P. G. Wodehouse

  CHAPTER XXIX

  THE LAST ROUND

  He had only been gone a few minutes when Mr. McEachern's meditationswere again interrupted. This time, the visitor was a stranger tohim, a dark-faced, clean-shaven man. He did not wear eveningclothes, so could not be one of the guests; and Mr. McEachern couldnot place him immediately. Then, he remembered. He had seen him inSir Thomas Blunt's dressing-room. This was Sir Thomas's valet.

  "Might I have a word with you, sir?"

  "What is it?" asked McEachern, staring heavily. His mind had notrecovered from the effect of Lord Dreever's philosophical remarks.There was something of a cloud on his brain. To judge from hislordship's words, things had been happening behind his back; and theidea of Molly's deceiving him was too strange to be assimilated inan instant. He looked at the valet dully.

  "What is it?" he asked again.

  "I must apologize for intruding, but I thought it best to approachyou before making my report to Sir Thomas."

  "Your report?"

  "I am employed by a private inquiry agency."

  "What!"

  "Yes, sir. Wragge's. You may have heard of us. In Holborn Bars. Veryold established. Divorce a specialty. You will have seen theadvertisements. Sir Thomas wrote asking for a man, and the governorsent me down. I have been with the house some years. My job, Igathered, was to keep my eyes open generally. Sir Thomas, it seemed,had no suspicions of any definite person. I was to be on the spotjust in case, in a manner of speaking. And it's precious lucky Iwas, or her ladyship's jewels would have been gone. I've done a faircop this very night."

  He paused, and eyed the ex-policeman keenly. McEachern was obviouslyexcited. Could Jimmy have made an attempt on the jewels during thedance? or Spike?

  "Say," he said, "was it a red-headed--?"

  The detective was watching him with a curious smile.

  "No, he wasn't red-headed. You seem interested, sir. I thought youwould be. I will tell you all about it. I had had my suspicions ofthis party ever since he arrived. And I may say that it struck me atthe time that there was something mighty fishy about the way he gotinto the castle."

  McEachern started. So, he had not been the only one to suspectJimmy's motives in attaching himself to Lord Dreever.

  "Go on," he said.

  "I suspected that there was some game on, and it struck me that thiswould be the day for the attempt, the house being upside down, in amanner of speaking, on account of the theatricals. And I was right.I kept near those jewels on and off all day, and, presently, just asI had thought, along comes this fellow. He'd hardly got to the doorwhen I was on him."

  "Good boy! You're no rube."

  "We fought for a while, but, being a bit to the good in strength,and knowing something about the game, I had the irons on him prettyquick, and took him off, and locked him in the cellar. That's how itwas, sir."

  Mr. McEachern's relief was overwhelming. If Lord Dreever's statementwas correct and Jimmy had really succeeded in winning Molly'saffection, this would indeed be a rescue at the eleventh hour. Itwas with a Nunc-Dimittis air that he felt for his cigar-case, andextended it toward the detective. A cigar from his own private casewas with him a mark of supreme favor and good-will, a sort ofaccolade which he bestowed only upon the really meritorious few.

  Usually, it was received with becoming deference; but on thisoccasion there was a somewhat startling deviation from routine; for,just as he was opening the case, something cold and hard pressedagainst each of his wrists, there was a snap and a click, and,looking up, dazed, he saw that the detective had sprung back, andwas contemplating him with a grim smile over the barrel of anugly-looking little revolver.

  Guilty or innocent, the first thing a man does when, he findshandcuffs on his wrists is to try to get them off. The action isautomatic. Mr. McEachern strained at the steel chain till the veinsstood out on his forehead. His great body shook with rage.

  The detective eyed these efforts with some satisfaction. The picturepresented by the other as he heaved and tugged was that of a guiltyman trapped.

  "It's no good, my friend," he said.

  The voice brought McEachern back to his senses. In the first shockof the thing, the primitive man in him had led him beyond theconfines of self-restraint. He had simply struggled unthinkingly.Now, he came to himself again.

  He shook his manacled hands furiously.

  "What does this mean?" he shouted. "What the--?"

  "Less noise," said the detective, sharply. "Get back!" he snapped,as the other took a step forward.

  "Do you know who I am?" thundered McEachern.

  "No," said the detective. "And that's just why you're wearing thosebracelets. Come, now, don't be a fool. The game's up. Can't you seethat?"

  McEachern leaned helplessly against the billiard-table. He feltweak. Everything was unreal. Had he gone mad? he wondered.

  "That's right," said the detective. "Stay there. You can't do anyharm there. It was a pretty little game, I'll admit. You worked itwell. Meeting your old friend from New York and all, and having himinvited to the castle. Very pretty. New York, indeed! Seen about asmuch of New York as I have of Timbuctoo. I saw through him."

  Some inkling of the truth began to penetrate McEachern'sconsciousness. He had become obsessed with the idea that, as thecaptive was not Spike, it must be Jimmy. The possibility ofMr. Galer's being the subject of discussion only dawned upon him now.

  "What do you mean?" he cried. "Who is it that you have arrested?"

  "Blest if I know. You can tell me that, I should think, seeing he'san old Timbuctoo friend of yours. Galer's the name he goes by here."

  "Galer!"

  "That's the man. And do you know what he had the impudence, thegall, to tell me? That he was in my own line of business. Adetective! He said you had sent for him to come here!"

  The detective laughed amusedly at the recollection.

  "And so he is, you fool. So I did."

  "Oh, you did, did you? And what business had you bringing detectivesinto other people's houses?"

  Mr. McEachern started to answer, but checked himself. Never beforehad he appreciated to the full the depth and truth of the proverbrelating to the frying-pan and the fire. To clear himself, he mustmention his suspicions of Jimmy, and also his reasons for thosesuspicions. And to do that would mean revealing his past. It wasScylla and Charybdis.

  A drop of perspiration trickled down his temple.

  "What's the good?" said the detective. "Mighty ingenious idea, that,only you hadn't allowed for there being a real detective in thehouse. It was that chap pitching me that yarn that made mesuspicious of you. I put two and two together. 'Partners,' I said tomyself. I'd heard all about you, scraping acquaintance with SirThomas and all. Mighty ingenious. You become the old family friend,and then you let in your pal. He gets the stuff, and hands it overto you. Nobody dreams of suspecting you, and there you are.Honestly, now, wasn't that the game?"

  "It's all a mistake--" McEachern was beginning, when the door-handleturned.

  The detective looked over his shoulder. McEachern glared dumbly.This was the crowning blow, that there should be spectators of hispredicament.

  Jimmy strolled into the room.

  "Dreever told me you were in here," he said to McEachern. "Can youspare me a--Hullo!"

  The detective had pocketed his revolver at the first sound of thehandle. To be discreet was one of the chief articles in the creed ofthe young men from Wragge's Detective Agency. But handcuffs are noteasily concealed. Jimmy stood staring in amazement at McEachern'swrists.

  "Some sort of a round game?" he enquired with interest.

  The detective became confidential.

  "It's this way, Mr. Pitt. There's been some pretty deep work goingon here. There's a regular gang of burglars in the place. This chaphere's one of them."

  "What, Mr. McEachern!"

  "That's what he calls himself."

  It was all Jimmy could do to keep himself from asking Mr. McEachernwhether he attributed his downfall t
o drink. He contented himselfwith a sorrowful shake of the head at the fermenting captive. Then,he took up the part of the prisoner's attorney.

  "I don't believe it," he said. "What makes you think so?"

  "Why, this afternoon, I caught this man's pal, the fellow that callshimself Galer--"

  "I know the man," said Jimmy. "He's a detective, really. Mr.McEachern brought him down here."

  The sleuth's jaw dropped limply, as if he had received a blow.

  "What?" he said, in a feeble voice.

  "Didn't I tell you--?" began Mr. McEachern; but the sleuth wasoccupied with Jimmy. That sickening premonition of disaster wasbeginning to steal over him. Dimly, he began to perceive that he hadblundered.

  "Yes," said Jimmy. "Why, I can't say; but Mr. McEachern was afraidsomeone might try to steal Lady Julia Blunt's rope of diamonds. So,he wrote to London for this man, Galer. It was officious, perhaps,but not criminal. I doubt if, legally, you could handcuff a man fora thing like that. What have you done with good Mr. Galer?"

  "I've locked him in the coal-cellar," said the detective, dismally.The thought of the interview in prospect with the human bloodhoundhe had so mishandled was not exhilarating.

  "Locked him in the cellar, did you?" said Jimmy. "Well, well, Idaresay he's very happy there. He's probably busy detectingblack-beetles. Still, perhaps you had better go and let him out. Possibly,if you were to apologize to him--? Eh? Just as you think. I onlysuggest. If you want somebody to vouch for Mr. McEachern'snon-burglariousness, I can do it. He is a gentleman of private means,and we knew each other out in New York--we are old acquaintances."

  "I never thought--"

  "That," said Jimmy, with sympathetic friendliness, "if you willallow me to say so, is the cardinal mistake you detectives make. Younever do think."

  "It never occurred to me--"

  The detective looked uneasily at Mr. McEachern. There wereindications in the policeman's demeanor that the moment followingrelease would be devoted exclusively to a carnival of violence, witha certain sleuth-hound playing a prominent role.

  He took the key of the handcuffs from his pocket, and toyed with it.Mr. McEachern emitted a low growl. It was enough.

  "If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Pitt," said the sleuth, obsequiously. Hethrust the key into Jimmy's hands, and fled.

  Jimmy unlocked the handcuffs. Mr. McEachern rubbed his wrists.

  "Ingenious little things," said Jimmy.

  "I'm much obliged to you," growled Mr. McEachern, without lookingup.

  "Not at all. A pleasure. This circumstantial evidence thing is thedevil, isn't it? I knew a man who broke into a house in New York towin a bet, and to this day the owner of that house thinks him aprofessional burglar."

  "What's that?" said Mr. McEachern, sharply.

  "Why do I say 'a man '? Why am I so elusive and mysterious? You'requite right. It sounds more dramatic, but after all what you want isfacts. Very well. I broke into your house that night to win a bet.That's the limpid truth."

  McEachern was staring at him. Jimmy proceeded.

  "You are just about to ask--what was Spike Mullins doing with me?Well, Spike had broken into my flat an hour before, and I took himalong with me as a sort of guide, philosopher, and friend."

  "Spike Mullins said you were a burglar from England."

  "I'm afraid I rather led him to think so. I had been to see theopening performance of a burglar-play called, 'Love, the Cracksman,'that night, and I worked off on Spike some severely technicalinformation I had received from a pal of mine who played lead in theshow. I told you when I came in that I had been talking to LordDreever. Well, what he was saying to me was that he had met thisvery actor man, a fellow called Mifflin--Arthur Mifflin--in Londonjust before he met me. He's in London now, rehearsing for a showthat's come over from America. You see the importance of this item?It means that, if you doubt my story, all you need do is to findMifflin--I forgot what theater his play is coming on at, but youcould find out in a second--and ask him to corroborate. Are yousatisfied?"

  McEachern did not answer. An hour before, he would have fought tothe last ditch for his belief in Jimmy's crookedness; but the eventsof the last ten minutes had shaken him. He could not forget that itwas Jimmy who had extricated him from a very uncomfortable position.He saw now that that position was not so bad as it had seemed at thetime, for the establishing of the innocence of Mr. Galer could havebeen effected on the morrow by an exchange of telegrams between thecastle and Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency; yet it had certainlybeen bad enough. But for Jimmy, there would have been several hoursof acute embarrassment, if nothing worse. He felt something of areaction in Jimmy's favor.

  Still, it is hard to overcome a deep-rooted prejudice in an instant.He stared doubtfully.

  "See here, Mr. McEachern," said Jimmy, "I wish you would listenquietly to me for a minute or two. There's really no reason on earthwhy we should be at one another's throats in this way. We might justas well be friends. Let's shake, and call the fight off. I guess youknow why I came in here to see you?"

  McEachern did not speak.

  "You know that your daughter has broken off her engagement to LordDreever?"

  "Then, he was right!" said McEachern, half to himself. "It is you?"

  Jimmy nodded. McEachern drummed his fingers on the table, and gazedthoughtfully at him.

  "Is Molly--?" he said at length. "Does Molly--?"

  "Yes," said Jimmy.

  McEachern continued his drumming. "Don't think there's been anythingunderhand about this," said Jimmy. "She absolutely refused to doanything unless you gave your consent. She said you had beenpartners all her life, and she was going to do the square thing byyou."

  "She did?" said McEachern, eagerly.

  "I think you ought to do the square thing by her. I'm not much, butshe wants me. Do the square thing by her."

  He stretched out his hand, but he saw that the other did not noticethe movement. McEachern was staring straight in front of him. Therewas a look in his eyes that Jimmy had never seen there before, afrightened, hunted look. The rugged aggressiveness of his mouth andchin showed up in strange contrast. The knuckles of his clenchedfists were white.

  "It's too late," he burst out. "I'll be square with her now, butit's too late. I won't stand in her way when I can make her happy.But I'll lose her! Oh, my God, I'll lose her!"

  He gripped the edge of the table.

  "Did you think I had never said to myself," he went on, "the thingsyou said to me that day when we met here? Did you think I didn'tknow what I was? Who should know it better than myself? But shedidn't. I'd kept it from her. I'd sweat for fear she would find outsome day. When I came over here, I thought I was safe. And, then,you came, and I saw you together. I thought you were a crook. Youwere with Mullins in New York. I told her you were a crook."

  "You told her that!"

  "I said I knew it. I couldn't tell her the truth--why I thought so.I said I had made inquiries in New York, and found out about you."

  Jimmy saw now. The mystery was solved. So, that was why Molly hadallowed them to force her into the engagement with Dreever. For amoment, a rush of anger filled him; but he looked at McEachern, andit died away. He could not be vindictive now. It would be likehitting a beaten man. He saw things suddenly from the other'sview-point, and he pitied him.

  "I see," he said, slowly.

  McEachern gripped the table in silence.

  "I see," said Jimmy again. "You mean, she'll want an explanation."

  He thought for a moment.

  "You must tell her," he said, quickly. "For your own sake, you musttell her. Go and do it now. Wake up, man!" He shook him by theshoulder. "Go and do it now. She'll forgive you. Don't be afraid ofthat. Go and look for her, and tell her now."

  McEachern roused himself.

  "I will," he said.

  "It's the only way," said Jimmy.

  McEachern opened the door, then fell back a pace. Jimmy could hearvoices in the passage outside. He recognized Lord Dreever's.
<
br />   McEachern continued to back away from the door.

  Lord Dreever entered, with Molly on his arm.

  "Hullo," said his lordship, looking round. "Hullo, Pitt! Here we allare, what?"

  "Lord Dreever wanted to smoke," said Molly.

  She smiled, but there was anxiety in her eyes. She looked quickly ather father and at Jimmy.

  "Molly, my dear," said McEachern huskily, "I to speak to you for amoment."

  Jimmy took his lordship by the arm.

  "Come along, Dreever," he said. "You can come and sit out with me.We'll go and smoke on the terrace."

  They left the room together.

  "What does the old boy want?" inquired his lordship. "Are you andMiss McEachern--?"

  "We are," said Jimmy.

  "By Jove, I say, old chap! Million congratulations, and all thatsort of rot, you know!"

  "Thanks," said Jimmy. "Have a cigarette?"

  His lordship had to resume his duties in the ballroom after awhile;but Jimmy sat on, smoking and thinking. The night was very still.Now and then, a sparrow would rustle in the ivy on the castle wall,and somewhere in the distance a dog was barking. The music had begunagain in the ball-room. It sounded faint and thin where he sat.

  In the general stillness, the opening of the door at the top of thesteps came sharply to his ears. He looked up. Two figures weresilhouetted for a moment against the light, and then the door closedagain. They began to move slowly down the steps.

  Jimmy had recognized them. He got up. He was in the shadow. Theycould not see him. They began to walk down the terrace. They werequite close now. Neither was speaking; but, presently when they werebut a few feet away, they stopped. There was the splutter of a match,and McEachern lighted a cigar. In the yellow light, his face wasclearly visible. Jimmy looked, and was content.

  He edged softly toward the shrubbery at the end of the terrace, and,entering it without a sound, began to make his way back to thehouse.

  CHAPTER XXX

  CONCLUSION

  The American liner, St. Louis, lay in the Empress Dock atSouthampton, taking aboard her passengers. All sorts and conditionsof men flowed in an unceasing stream up the gangway.

  Leaning over the second-class railing, Jimmy Pitt and Spike Mullinswatched them thoughtfully.

  Jimmy looked up at the Blue Peter that fluttered from the fore-mast,and then at Spike. The Bowery boy's face was stolid andexpressionless. He was smoking a short wooden pipe with an air ofdetachment.

  "Well, Spike," said Jimmy. "Your schooner's on the tide now, isn'tit? Your vessel's at the quay. You've got some queer-lookingfellow-travelers. Don't miss the two Cingalese sports, and the man in theturban and the baggy breeches. I wonder if they're air-tight. Usefulif he fell overboard."

  "Sure," said Spike, directing a contemplative eye toward the garmentin question. "He knows his business."

  "I wonder what those men on the deck are writing. They've beenscribbling away ever since we came here. Probably, societyjournalists. We shall see in next week's papers: 'Among thesecond-class passengers, we noticed Mr. "Spike" Mullins, looking as cheeryas ever.' It's a pity you're so set on going, Spike. Why not changeyour mind, and stop?"

  For a moment, Spike looked wistful. Then, his countenance resumedits woodenness. "Dere ain't no use for me dis side, boss," he said."New York's de spot. Youse don't want none of me, now you'remarried. How's Miss Molly, boss?"

  "Splendid, Spike, thanks. We're going over to France by to-night'sboat."

  "It's been a queer business," Jimmy continued, after a pause, "adeuced-queer business! Still, I've come very well out of it, at anyrate. It seems to me that you're the only one of us who doesn't endhappily, Spike. I'm married. McEachern's butted into society so deepthat it would take an excavating party with dynamite to get him outof it. Molly--well, Molly's made a bad bargain, but I hope she won'tregret it. We're all going some, except you. You're going out on theold trail again--which begins in Third Avenue, and ends in SingSing. Why tear yourself away, Spike?"

  Spike concentrated his gaze on a weedy young emigrant in a bluejersey, who was having his eye examined by the overworked doctor andseemed to be resenting it.

  "Dere's nuttin' doin' dis side, boss," he said, at length. "I wantto git busy."

  "Ulysses Mullins!" said Jimmy, looking at him curiously. "I know thefeeling. There's only one cure. I sketched it out for you once, butI guess you'll never take it. You don't think a lot of women, doyou? You're the rugged bachelor."

  "Goils--!" began Spike comprehensively, and abandoned the topicwithout dilating on it further.

  Jimmy lighted his pipe, and threw the match overboard.

  The sun came out from behind a cloud, and the water sparkled.

  "Dose were great jools, boss," said Spike, thoughtfully.

  "I believe you're still brooding over them, Spike."

  "We could have got away wit' dem, if youse would have stood fer it.Dead easy."

  "You are brooding over them. Spike, I'll tell you something whichwill console you a little, before you start out on your wanderings.It's in confidence, so keep it dark. That necklace was paste."

  "What's dat?"

  "Nothing but paste. I got next directly you handed them to me. Theyweren't worth a hundred dollars."

  A light of understanding came into Spike's eyes. His face beamedwith the smile of one to whom dark matters are made clear.

  "So, dat's why you wouldn't stan' fer gittin' away wit' dem!" heexclaimed.