The Intrusion of Jimmy by P. G. Wodehouse (new books to read .txt) 📗

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

"Yes," said Jimmy.

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

"She did?" said McEachern, eagerly.

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

He stretched out his hand, but he saw that the other did not notice the movement. McEachern was staring straight in front of him. There was a look in his eyes that Jimmy had never seen there before, a frightened, hunted look. The rugged aggressiveness of his mouth and chin showed up in strange contrast. The knuckles of his clenched fists were white.

"It's too late," he burst out. "I'll be square with her now, but it'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 things you said to me that day when we met here? Did you think I didn't know what I was? Who should know it better than myself? But she didn't. I'd kept it from her. I'd sweat for fear she would find out some 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. You were 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 had allowed them to force her into the engagement with Dreever. For a moment, a rush of anger filled him; but he looked at McEachern, and it died away. He could not be vindictive now. It would be like hitting a beaten man. He saw things suddenly from the other's view-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 must tell her. Go and do it now. Wake up, man!" He shook him by the shoulder. "Go and do it now. She'll forgive you. Don't be afraid of that. 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 hear voices in the passage outside. He recognized Lord Dreever's.

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 all are, what?"

"Lord Dreever wanted to smoke," said Molly.

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

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

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 and Miss McEachern—?"

"We are," said Jimmy.

"By Jove, I say, old chap! Million congratulations, and all that sort 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 begun again 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 the steps came sharply to his ears. He looked up. Two figures were silhouetted for a moment against the light, and then the door closed again. They began to move slowly down the steps.

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