Indiscretions of Archie by P. G. Wodehouse (the gingerbread man read aloud txt) 📗
- Author: P. G. Wodehouse
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He twiddled again. The ring and the bracelet had fetched nearly twelve hundred dollars. Up to that figure his hat was in the ring.
“Eight hundred I am offered. Eight hundred. Eight-eight-eight-eight—”
A voice spoke from somewhere at the back of the room. A quiet, cold, nasty, determined voice.
“Nine!”
Archie rose from his seat and spun round. This mean attack from the rear stung his fighting spirit. As he rose, a young man sitting immediately in front of him rose too and stared likewise. He was a square-built resolute-looking young man, who reminded Archie vaguely of somebody he had seen before. But Archie was too busy trying to locate the man at the back to pay much attention to him. He detected him at last, owing to the fact that the eyes of everybody in that part of the room were fixed upon him. He was a small man of middle age, with tortoise-shell-rimmed spectacles. He might have been a professor or something of the kind. Whatever he was, he was obviously a man to be reckoned with. He had a rich sort of look, and his demeanour was the demeanour of a man who is prepared to fight it out on these lines if it takes all the summer.
“Nine hundred I am offered. Nine-nine-nine-nine—”
Archie glared defiantly at the spectacled man.
“A thousand!” he cried.
The irruption of high finance into the placid course of the afternoon’s proceedings had stirred the congregation out of its lethargy. There were excited murmurs. Necks were craned, feet shuffled. As for the high-priest, his cheerfulness was now more than restored, and his faith in his fellow-man had soared from the depths to a very lofty altitude. He beamed with approval. Despite the warmth of his praise he would have been quite satisfied to see Pongo’s little brother go at twenty dollars, and the reflection that the bidding had already reached one thousand and that his commission was twenty per cent, had engendered a mood of sunny happiness.
“One thousand is bid!” he carolled. “Now, gentlemen, I don’t want to hurry you over this. You are all connoisseurs here, and you don’t want to see a priceless china figure of the Ming Dynasty get away from you at a sacrifice price. Perhaps you can’t all see the figure where it is. Willie, take it round and show it to ’em. We’ll take a little intermission while you look carefully at this wonderful figure. Get a move on, Willie! Pick up your feet!”
Archie, sitting dazedly, was aware that Reggie van Tuyl had finished his beauty sleep and was addressing the young man in the seat in front.
“Why, hallo,” said Reggie. “I didn’t know you were back. You remember me, don’t you? Reggie van Tuyl. I know your sister very well. Archie, old man, I want you to meet my friend, Bill Brewster. Why, dash it!” He chuckled sleepily. “I was forgetting. Of course! He’s your—”
“How are you?” said the young man. “Talking of my sister,” he said to Reggie, “I suppose you haven’t met her husband by any chance? I suppose you know she married some awful chump?”
“Me,” said Archie.
“How’s that?”
“I married your sister. My name’s Moffam.”
The young man seemed a trifle taken aback.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Not at all,” said Archie.
“I was only going by what my father said in his letters,” he explained, in extenuation.
Archie nodded.
“I’m afraid your jolly old father doesn’t appreciate me. But I’m hoping for the best. If I can rope in that rummy-looking little china thing that Jo-Jo the dog-faced boy is showing the customers, he will be all over me. I mean to say, you know, he’s got another like it, and, if he can get a full house, as it were, I’m given to understand he’ll be bucked, cheered, and even braced.”
The young man stared.
“Are you the fellow who’s been bidding against me?”
“Eh, what? Were you bidding against me?”
“I wanted to buy the thing for my father. I’ve a special reason for wanting to get in right with him just now. Are you buying it for him, too?”
“Absolutely. As a surprise. It was Lucille’s idea. His valet, a chappie named Parker, tipped us off that the thing was to be sold.”
“Parker? Great Scot! It was Parker who tipped me off. I met him on Broadway, and he told me about it.”
“Rummy he never mentioned it in his letter to me. Why, dash it, we could have got the thing for about two dollars if we had pooled our bids.”
“Well, we’d better pool them now, and extinguish that pill at the back there. I can’t go above eleven hundred. That’s all I’ve got.”
“I can’t go above eleven hundred myself.”
“There’s just one thing. I wish you’d let me be the one to hand the thing over to Father. I’ve a special reason for wanting to make a hit with him.”
“Absolutely!” said Archie, magnanimously. “It’s all the same to me. I only wanted to get him generally braced, as it were, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s awfully good of you.”
“Not a bit, laddie, no, no, and far from it. Only too glad.”
Willie had returned from his rambles among the connoisseurs, and Pongo’s brother was back on his pedestal. The high-priest cleared his throat and resumed his discourse.
“Now that you have all seen this superb figure we will—I was offered one thousand—one thousand-one-one-one-one—eleven hundred. Thank you, sir. Eleven hundred I am offered.”
The high-priest was now exuberant. You could see him doing figures in his head.
“You do the bidding,” said Brother Bill.
“Right-o!” said Archie.
He waved a defiant hand.
“Thirteen,” said the man at the back.
“Fourteen, dash it!”
“Fifteen!”
“Sixteen!”
“Seventeen!”
“Eighteen!”
“Nineteen!”
“Two thousand!”
The high-priest did everything but sing. He radiated good will and bonhomie.
“Two thousand I am offered. Is there any advance on two thousand? Come, gentlemen, I don’t want to give this superb figure away. Twenty-one hundred. Twenty-one-one-one-one. This is more the sort of thing I have been accustomed to. When I was at Sotheby’s Rooms in London, this kind of bidding was a common-place. Twenty-two-two-two-two-two. One hardly noticed it. Three-three-three. Twenty-three-three-three. Twenty-three hundred dollars I am offered.”
He gazed expectantly at Archie, as a man gazes at some favourite dog whom he calls upon to perform a trick. But Archie had reached the end of his tether. The hand that had twiddled so often and so bravely lay inert beside his trouser-leg, twitching feebly. Archie was through.
“Twenty-three hundred,” said the high-priest, ingratiatingly.
Archie made no movement. There was a tense pause. The high-priest gave a little sigh, like one waking from a beautiful dream.
“Twenty-three hundred,” he said. “Once twenty-three. Twice twenty-three. Third, last, and final call, twenty-three. Sold at twenty-three hundred. I congratulate you, sir, on a genuine bargain!”
Reggie van Tuyl had dozed off again. Archie tapped his brother-in-law on the shoulder.
“May as well be popping, what?”
They threaded their way sadly together through the crowd, and made for the street. They passed into Fifth Avenue without breaking the silence.
“Bally nuisance,” said Archie, at last.
“Rotten!”
“Wonder who that chappie was?”
“Some collector, probably.”
“Well, it can’t be helped,” said Archie.
Brother Bill attached himself to Archie’s arm, and became communicative.
“I didn’t want to mention it in front of van Tuyl,” he said, “because he’s such a talking-machine, and it would have been all over New York before dinner-time. But you’re one of the family, and you can keep a secret.”
“Absolutely! Silent tomb and what not.”
“The reason I wanted that darned thing was because I’ve just got engaged to a girl over in England, and I thought that, if I could hand my father that china figure-thing with one hand and break the news with the other, it might help a bit. She’s the most wonderful girl!”
“I’ll bet she is,” said Archie, cordially.
“The trouble is she’s in the chorus of one of the revues over there, and Father is apt to kick. So I thought—oh, well, it’s no good worrying now. Come along where it’s quiet, and I’ll tell you all about her.”
“That’ll be jolly,” said Archie.
SALVATORE CHOOSES THE WRONG MOMENT
Archie reclaimed the family jewellery from its temporary home next morning; and, having done so, sauntered back to the Cosmopolis. He was surprised, on entering the lobby, to meet his father-in-law. More surprising still, Mr. Brewster was manifestly in a mood of extraordinary geniality. Archie could hardly believe his eyes when the other waved cheerily to him—nor his ears a moment later when Mr. Brewster, addressing him as “my boy,” asked him how he was and mentioned that the day was a warm one.
Obviously this jovial frame of mind must be taken advantage of; and Archie’s first thought was of the downtrodden Salvatore, to the tale of whose wrongs he had listened so sympathetically on the previous day. Now was plainly the moment for the waiter to submit his grievance, before some ebb-tide caused the milk of human kindness to flow out of Daniel Brewster. With a swift “Cheerio!” in his father-in-law’s direction, Archie bounded into the grill-room. Salvatore, the hour for luncheon being imminent but not yet having arrived, was standing against the far wall in an attitude of thought.
“Laddie!” cried Archie.
“Sare?”
“A most extraordinary thing has happened. Good old Brewster has suddenly popped up through a trap and is out in the lobby now. And what’s still more weird, he’s apparently bucked.”
“Sare?”
“Braced, you know. In the pink. Pleased about something. If you go to him now with that yarn of yours, you can’t fail. He’ll kiss you on both cheeks and give you his bank-roll and collar-stud. Charge along and ask the head-waiter if you can have ten minutes off.”
Salvatore vanished in search of the potentate named, and Archie returned to the lobby to bask in the unwonted sunshine.
“Well, well, well, what!” he said. “I thought you were at Brookport.”
“I came up this morning to meet a friend of mine,” replied Mr. Brewster genially. “Professor Binstead.”
“Don’t think I know him.”
“Very interesting man,” said Mr. Brewster, still with the same uncanny amiability. “He’s a dabbler in a good many things—science, phrenology, antiques. I asked him to bid for me at a sale yesterday. There was a little china figure—”
Archie’s jaw fell.
“China figure?” he stammered feebly.
“Yes. The companion to one you may have noticed on my mantelpiece upstairs. I have been trying to get the pair of them for years. I should never have heard of this one if it had not been for that valet of mine, Parker. Very good of him to let me know of it, considering I had fired him. Ah, here is Binstead.”—He moved to greet the small, middle-aged man with the tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles who was bustling across the lobby.—“Well, Binstead, so you got it?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose the price wasn’t particularly stiff?”
“Twenty-three hundred.”
“Twenty-three hundred!” Mr. Brewster seemed to reel in his tracks. “Twenty-three hundred!”
“You gave me carte blanche.”
“Yes, but twenty-three hundred!”
“I could have got it for a few dollars, but unfortunately I was a little late, and, when I arrived, some young fool had bid it up to a thousand, and he stuck to me till I finally shook him off at twenty-three hundred. Why, this is the very man! Is he a friend of yours?”
Archie coughed.
“More a relation than a friend, what? Son-in-law, don’t you know!”
Mr. Brewster’s amiability had vanished.
“What damned foolery have you been up to now?” he demanded. “Can’t I move a step without stubbing my toe on you? Why the devil did you bid?”
“We thought it would be rather a fruity scheme. We talked it over and came to the conclusion that it was an egg. Wanted to get hold of the rummy little object, don’t you know, and surprise you.”
“Who’s we?”
“Lucille and I.”
“But how did you hear of it at all?”
“Parker, the valet-chappie, you know, wrote me a letter about it.”
“Parker! Didn’t he tell you that he had told me the figure was to be sold?”
“Absolutely not!” A sudden suspicion came to Archie. He was normally a guileless young man, but even to him the extreme fishiness of the part played by Herbert Parker had become apparent. “I say, you know, it looks to me as if friend Parker had been having us all on a bit, what? I mean to say it was jolly old Herb, who tipped your son off—Bill, you know—to go and bid for the thing.”
“Bill! Was Bill there?”
“Absolutely in person! We were bidding against each other like the dickens till we managed to get together and get acquainted. And then this bird—this gentleman—sailed in and started to slip it across us.”
Professor Binstead chuckled—the
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