Right Ho, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse (the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT) 📗

to pull him inside out⁠—”

“⁠—and make him swallow himself. Correct. The programme still holds good.”

“But, Tuppy, I keep assuring you, as a competent eyewitness, that nobody snitched Angela from you during that Cannes trip.”

“No. But they did after she got back.”

“What?”

“Don’t keep saying, ‘What?’ You heard.”

“But she hasn’t seen anybody since she got back.”

“Oh, no? How about that newt bloke?”

“Gussie?”

“Precisely. The serpent Fink-Nottle.”

This seemed to me absolute gibbering.

“But Gussie loves the Bassett.”

“You can’t all love this blighted Bassett. What astonishes me is that anyone can do it. He loves Angela, I tell you. And she loves him.”

“But Angela handed you your hat before Gussie ever got here.”

“No, she didn’t. Couple of hours after.”

“He couldn’t have fallen in love with her in a couple of hours.”

“Why not? I fell in love with her in a couple of minutes. I worshipped her immediately we met, the popeyed little excrescence.”

“But, dash it⁠—”

“Don’t argue, Bertie. The facts are all docketed. She loves this newt-nuzzling blister.”

“Quite absurd, laddie⁠—quite absurd.”

“Oh?” He ground a heel into the carpet⁠—a thing I’ve often read about, but had never seen done before. “Then perhaps you will explain how it is that she happens to come to be engaged to him?”

You could have knocked me down with a f.

“Engaged to him?”

“She told me herself.”

“She was kidding you.”

“She was not kidding me. Shortly after the conclusion of this afternoon’s binge at Market Snodsbury Grammar School he asked her to marry him, and she appears to have right-hoed without a murmur.”

“There must be some mistake.”

“There was. The snake Fink-Nottle made it, and by now I bet he realizes it. I’ve been chasing him since 5:30.”

“Chasing him?”

“All over the place. I want to pull his head off.”

“I see. Quite.”

“You haven’t seen him, by any chance?”

“No.”

“Well, if you do, say goodbye to him quickly and put in your order for lilies.⁠ ⁠… Oh, Jeeves.”

“Sir?”

I hadn’t heard the door open, but the man was on the spot once more. My private belief, as I think I have mentioned before, is that Jeeves doesn’t have to open doors. He’s like one of those birds in India who bung their astral bodies about⁠—the chaps, I mean, who having gone into thin air in Bombay, reassemble the parts and appear two minutes later in Calcutta. Only some such theory will account for the fact that he’s not there one moment and is there the next. He just seems to float from Spot A to Spot B like some form of gas.

“Have you seen Mr. Fink-Nottle, Jeeves?”

“No, sir.”

“I’m going to murder him.”

“Very good, sir.”

Tuppy withdrew, banging the door behind him, and I put Jeeves abreast.

“Jeeves,” I said, “do you know what? Mr. Fink-Nottle is engaged to my Cousin Angela.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“Well, how about it? Do you grasp the psychology? Does it make sense? Only a few hours ago he was engaged to Miss Bassett.”

“Gentlemen who have been discarded by one young lady are often apt to attach themselves without delay to another, sir. It is what is known as a gesture.”

I began to grasp.

“I see what you mean. Defiant stuff.”

“Yes, sir.”

“A sort of ‘Oh, right-ho, please yourself, but if you don’t want me, there are plenty who do.’ ”

“Precisely, sir. My Cousin George⁠—”

“Never mind about your Cousin George, Jeeves.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Keep him for the long winter evenings, what?”

“Just as you wish, sir.”

“And, anyway, I bet your Cousin George wasn’t a shrinking, non-goose-bo-ing jellyfish like Gussie. That is what astounds me, Jeeves⁠—that it should be Gussie who has been putting in all this heavy gesture-making stuff.”

“You must remember, sir, that Mr. Fink-Nottle is in a somewhat inflamed cerebral condition.”

“That’s true. A bit above par at the moment, as it were?”

“Exactly, sir.”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing⁠—he’ll be in a jolly sight more inflamed cerebral condition if Tuppy gets hold of him.⁠ ⁠… What’s the time?”

“Just on eight o’clock, sir.”

“Then Tuppy has been chasing him for two hours and a half. We must save the unfortunate blighter, Jeeves.”

“Yes, sir.”

“A human life is a human life, what?”

“Exceedingly true, sir.”

“The first thing, then, is to find him. After that we can discuss plans and schemes. Go forth, Jeeves, and scour the neighbourhood.”

“It will not be necessary, sir. If you will glance behind you, you will see Mr. Fink-Nottle coming out from beneath your bed.”

And, by Jove, he was absolutely right.

There was Gussie, emerging as stated. He was covered with fluff and looked like a tortoise popping forth for a bit of a breather.

“Gussie!” I said.

“Jeeves,” said Gussie.

“Sir?” said Jeeves.

“Is that door locked, Jeeves?”

“No, sir, but I will attend to the matter immediately.”

Gussie sat down on the bed, and I thought for a moment that he was going to be in the mode by burying his face in his hands. However, he merely brushed a dead spider from his brow.

“Have you locked the door, Jeeves?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Because you can never tell that that ghastly Glossop may not take it into his head to come⁠—”

The word “back” froze on his lips. He hadn’t got any further than a b-ish sound, when the handle of the door began to twist and rattle. He sprang from the bed, and for an instant stood looking exactly like a picture my Aunt Agatha has in her dining-room⁠—The Stag at Bay⁠—Landseer. Then he made a dive for the cupboard and was inside it before one really got on to it that he had started leaping. I have seen fellows late for the 9:15 move less nippily.

I shot a glance at Jeeves. He allowed his right eyebrow to flicker slightly, which is as near as he ever gets to a display of the emotions.

“Hullo?” I yipped.

“Let me in, blast you!” responded Tuppy’s voice from without. “Who locked this door?”

I consulted Jeeves once more in the language of the eyebrow. He raised one of his. I raised one of mine. He raised his other. I raised my other. Then we both raised both. Finally, there seeming no other policy to pursue, I flung wide the gates and Tuppy came shooting in.

“Now what?” I said, as nonchalantly as I could