Piccadilly Jim - P. G. Wodehouse (best romance ebooks TXT) 📗

Jimmy laughed.

“It would have been awkward for you if I really had been Jimmy Crocker, wouldn’t it?”

“And it would have been awkward for you if I had really been Lord Wisbeach.”

“Who are you, by the way?”

“The boys call me Gentleman Jack.”

“Why?” asked Jimmy, surprised.

Lord Wisbeach ignored the question.

“I’m working with Burke’s lot just now. Say, let’s be sensible about this. I’ll be straight with you, straight as a string.”

“Did you say string or spring?”

“And I’ll expect you to be straight with me.”

“Are we to breathe confidences into each other’s ears?”

Lord Wisbeach went to the door again and submitted the passage to a second examination.

“You seem nervous,” said Jimmy.

“I don’t like that butler. He’s up to something.”

“Do you think he’s one of Potter’s lot?”

“Shouldn’t wonder. He isn’t on the level, anyway, or why did he pretend to recognise you as Jimmy Crocker?”

“Recognition of me as Jimmy Crocker seems to be the acid test of honesty.”

“He was in a tight place, same as I was,” said Lord Wisbeach. “He couldn’t know that you weren’t really Jimmy Crocker until you put him wise⁠—same as you did me⁠—by pretending to know him.” He looked at Jimmy with grudging admiration. “You’d got your nerve with you, pal, coming in here like this. You were taking big chances. You couldn’t have known you wouldn’t run up against someone who really knew Jimmy Crocker. What would you have done if this butler guy had really been on the level?”

“The risks of the profession!”

“When I think of the work I had to put in,” said Lord Wisbeach, “it makes me tired to think of someone else just walking in here as you did.”

“What made you choose Lord Wisbeach as your alias?”

“I knew that I could get away with it. I came over on the boat with him, and I knew he was travelling round the world and wasn’t going to stay more than a day in New York. Even then I had to go some to get into this place. Burke told me to get hold of old Chester and get a letter of introduction from him. And here you come along and just stroll in and tell them you have come to stay!” He brooded for a moment on the injustice of things. “Well, what are you going to do about it, Pal?”

“About what?”

“About us both being here? Are you going to be sensible and work in with me and divvy up later on, or are you going to risk spoiling everything by trying to hog the whole thing? I’ll be square with you. It isn’t as if there was any use in trying to bluff each other. We’re both here for the same thing. You want to get hold of that powder stuff, that Partridgite, and so do I.”

“You believe in Partridgite, then?”

“Oh, can it,” said Lord Wisbeach disgustedly. “What’s the use? Of course I believe in it. Burke’s had his eye on the thing for a year. You’ve heard of Dwight Partridge, haven’t you? Well, this guy’s his son. Everyone knows that Dwight Partridge was working on an explosive when he died, and here’s his son comes along with a test-tube full of stuff which he says could blow this city to bits. What’s the answer? The boy’s been working on the old man’s dope. From what I’ve seen of him, I guess there wasn’t much more to be done on it, or he wouldn’t have done it. He’s pretty well dead from the neck up, as far as I can see. But that doesn’t alter the fact that he’s got the stuff and that you and I have got to get together and make a deal. If we don’t, I’m not saying you mightn’t gum my game, just as I might gum yours; but where’s the sense in that? It only means taking extra chances. Whereas if we sit in together, there’s enough in it for both of us. You know as well as I do that there’s a dozen markets which’ll bid against each other for stuff like that Partridgite. If you’re worrying about Burke giving you a square deal, forget it. I’ll fix Burke. He’ll treat you nice, all right.”

Jimmy ground the butt of his cigarette against his plate.

“I’m no orator, as Brutus is; but, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man. And, speaking in the capacity of a plain, blunt man, I rise to reply⁠—Nothing doing.”

“What? You won’t come in?”

Jimmy shook his head.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Wizzy, if I may still call you that, but your offer fails to attract. I will not get together or sit in or anything else. On the contrary, I am about to go to Mrs. Pett and inform her that there is a snake in her Eden.”

“You’re not going to squeal on me?”

“At the top of my voice.”

Lord Wisbeach laughed unpleasantly.

“Yes, you will,” he said. “How are you going to explain why you recognised me as an old pal before lunch if I’m a crook after lunch. You can’t give me away without giving yourself away. If I’m not Lord Wisbeach, then you’re not Jimmy Crocker.”

Jimmy sighed. “I get you. Life is very complex, isn’t it?”

Lord Wisbeach rose.

“You’d better think it over, son,” he said. “You aren’t going to get anywhere by acting like a fool. You can’t stop me going after this stuff, and if you won’t come in and go fifty-fifty, you’ll find yourself left. I’ll beat you to it.”

He left the room, and Jimmy, lighting a fresh cigarette, addressed himself to the contemplation of this new complication in his affairs. It was quite true what Gentleman Jack or Joe or whatever the “boys” called him had said. To denounce him meant denouncing himself. Jimmy smoked thoughtfully. Not for the first time he wished that his record during the past few years had been of a snowier character. He began to appreciate what must have been the feelings of Dr. Jekyll under