Something New - Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (books to read for self improvement TXT) 📗
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
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Now Brought Him From His Bed And Downstairs. His Objective Was
The Decanter On The Table Of The Smoking-Room, Which Was One Of
The Rooms Opening On The Gallery That Looked Down On The Hall.
Hot Water He Could Achieve In His Bedroom By Means Of His Stove.
So Out Of Bed He Had Climbed And Downstairs He Had Come; And Here
He Was, To All Appearances, Just In Time To Foil The Very Plot On
Which He Had Been Brooding. Mr. Peters Might Be In Bed, But There
In The Hall Below Him Stood The Accomplice, Not Ten Paces From
The Museum's Door. He Arrived On The Spot At Racing Speed And
Confronted Ashe.
"What Are You Doing Here?"
And Then, From The Baxter Viewpoint, Things Began To Go Wrong. By
All The Rules Of The Game, Ashe, Caught, As It Were, Red-Handed,
Should Have Wilted, Stammered And Confessed All; But Ashe Was
Fortified By That Philosophic Calm Which Comes To Us In Dreams,
And, Moreover, He Had His Story Ready.
"Mr. Peters Rang For Me, Sir."
He Had Never Expected To Feel Grateful To The Little Firebrand
Who Employed Him, But He Had To Admit That The Millionaire, In
Their Late Conversation, Had Shown Forethought. The Thought
Struck Him That But For Mr. Peters' Advice He Might By Now Be In
An Extremely Awkward Position; For His Was Not A Swiftly
Inventive Mind.
"Rang For You? At Half-Past Two In The Morning!"
"To Read To Him, Sir."
"To Read To Him At This Hour?"
"Mr. Peters Suffers From Insomnia, Sir. He Has A Weak Digestion
And Pain Sometimes Prevents Him From Sleeping. The Lining Of His
Stomach Is Not At All What It Should Be."
"I Don't Believe A Word Of It."
With That Meekness Which Makes The Good Man Wronged So Impressive
A Spectacle, Ashe Produced And Exhibited His Novel.
"Here Is The Book I Am About To Read To Him. I Think, Sir, If You
Will Excuse Me, I Had Better Be Going To His Room. Good Night,
Sir."
He Proceeded To Mount The Stairs. He Was Sorry For Mr. Peters, So
Shortly About To Be Roused From A Refreshing Slumber; But These
Were Life's Tragedies And Must Be Borne Bravely.
The Efficient Baxter Dogged Him The Whole Way, Sprinting Silently
In His Wake And Dodging Into The Shadows Whenever The Light Of An
Chapter 6 Pg 113Occasional Electric Bulb Made It Inadvisable To Keep To The Open.
Then Abruptly He Gave Up The Pursuit. For The First Time His
Comparative Impotence In This Silent Conflict On Which He Had
Embarked Was Made Manifest To Him, And He Perceived That On Mere
Suspicion, However Strong, He Could Do Nothing. To Accuse Mr.
Peters Of Theft Or To Accuse Him Of Being Accessory To A Theft
Was Out Of The Question.
Yet His Whole Being Revolted At The Thought Of Allowing The
Sanctity Of The Museum To Be Violated. Officially Its Contents
Belonged To Lord Emsworth, But Ever Since His Connection With The
Castle He Had Been Put In Charge Of Them, And He Had Come To Look
On Them As His Own Property. If He Was Only A Collector By Proxy
He Had, Nevertheless, The Collector's Devotion To His Curios,
Beside Which The Lioness' Attachment To Her Cubs Is Tepid; And He
Was Prepared To Do Anything To Retain In His Possession A Scarab
Toward Which He Already Entertained The Feelings Of A Life
Proprietor.
No--Not Quite Anything! He Stopped Short At The Idea Of Causing
Unpleasantness Between The Father Of The Honorable Freddie And
The Father Of The Honorable Freddie's Fiancee. His Secretarial
Position At The Castle Was A Valuable One And He Was Loath To
Jeopardize It.
There Was Only One Way In Which This Delicate Affair Could Be
Brought To A Satisfactory Conclusion. It Was Obvious From What He
Had Seen That Night That Mr. Peters' Connection With The Attempt
On The Scarab Was To Be Merely Sympathetic, And That The Actual
Theft Was To Be Accomplished By Ashe. His Only Course, Therefore,
Was To Catch Ashe Actually In The Museum. Then Mr. Peters Need
Not Appear In The Matter At All. Mr. Peters' Position In Those
Circumstances Would Be Simply That Of A Man Who Had Happened To
Employ, Through No Fault Of His Own, A Valet Who Happened To Be A
Thief.
He Had Made A Mistake, He Perceived, In Locking The Door Of The
Museum. In Future He Must Leave It Open, As A Trap Is Open;
And He Must Stay Up Nights And Keep Watch. With These
Reflections, The Efficient Baxter Returned To His Room.
Meantime Ashe Had Entered Mr. Peters' Bedroom And Switched On The
Light. Mr. Peters, Who Had Just Succeeded In Dropping Off To
Sleep, Sat Up With A Start.
"I've Come To Read To You," Said Ashe.
Mr. Peters Emitted A Stifled Howl, In Which Wrath And Self-Pity
Were Nicely Blended.
"You Fool, Don't You Know I Have Just Managed To Get To Sleep?"
"And Now You're Awake Again," Said Ashe Soothingly. "Such Is
Life! A Little Rest, A Little Folding Of The Hands In Sleep, And
Chapter 6 Pg 114Then Bing!--Off We Go Again. I Hope You Will Like This Novel. I
Dipped Into It And It Seems Good."
"What Do You Mean By Coming In Here At This Time Of Night? Are
You Crazy?"
"It Was Your Suggestion; And, By The Way, I Must Thank You For
It. I Apologize For Calling It Thin. It Worked Like A Charm. I
Don't Think He Believed It--In Fact, I Know He Didn't; But It
Held Him. I Couldn't Have Thought Up Anything Half So Good In An
Emergency."
Mr. Peters' Wrath Changed To Excitement.
"Did You Get It? Have You Been After My--My Cheops?"
"I Have Been After Your Cheops, But I Didn't Get It. Bad Men Were
Abroad. That Fellow With The Spectacles, Who Was In The Museum
When I Met You There This Evening, Swooped Down From Nowhere, And
I Had To Tell Him That You Had Rung For Me To Read To You.
Fortunately I Had This Novel On Me. I Think He Followed Me
Upstairs To See Whether I Really Did Come To Your Room."
Mr. Peters Groaned Miserably.
"Baxter," He Said; "He's A Man Named Baxter--Lord Emsworth's
Private Secretary; And He Suspects Us. He's The Man We--I Mean
You--Have Got To Look Out For."
"Well, Never Mind. Let's Be Happy While We Can. Make Yourself
Comfortable And I'll Start Reading. After All, What Could Be
Pleasanter Than A Little Literature In The Small Hours? Shall I
Begin?"
* * *
Ashe Marson Found Joan Valentine In The Stable Yard After
Breakfast The Next Morning, Playing With A Retriever Puppy. "Will
You Spare Me A Moment Of Your Valuable Time?"
"Certainly, Mr. Marson."
"Shall We Walk Out Into The Open Somewhere--Where We Can't Be
Overheard?"
"Perhaps It Would Be Better."
They Moved Off.
"Request Your Canine Friend To Withdraw," Said Ashe. "He Prevents
Me From Marshaling My Thoughts."
"I'm Afraid He Won't Withdraw."
Chapter 6 Pg 115
Never Mind. I'll Do My Best In Spite Of Him. Tell Me, Was I
Dreaming Or Did I Really Meet You In The Hall This Morning At
About Twenty Minutes After Two?"
"You Did."
"And Did You Really Tell Me That You Had Come To The Castle To
Steal--"
"Recover."
"--Recover Mr. Peters' Scarab?"
"I Did."
"Then It's True?"
"It Is."
Ashe Scraped The Ground With A Meditative Toe.
"This," He Said, "Seems To Me To Complicate Matters Somewhat."
"It Complicates Them Abominably!"
"I Suppose You Were Surprised When You Found That I Was On The
Same Game As Yourself."
"Not In The Least."
"You Weren't!"
"I Knew It Directly I Saw The Advertisement In The Morning Post.
And I Hunted Up The Morning Post Directly You Had Told Me That
You Had Become Mr. Peters' Valet."
"You Have Known All Along!"
"I Have."
Ashe Regarded Her Admiringly.
"You're Wonderful!"
"Because I Saw Through You?"
"Partly That; But Chiefly Because You Had The Pluck To Undertake
A Thing Like This."
"You Undertook It."
"But I'm A Man."
"And I'm A Woman. And My Theory, Mr. Marson, Is That A Woman Can
Chapter 6 Pg 116Do Nearly Everything Better Than A Man. What A Splendid Test Case
This Would Make To Settle The Votes-For-Women Question Once And
For All! Here We Are--You And I--A Man And A Woman, Each Trying
For The Same Thing And Each Starting With Equal Chances. Suppose
I Beat You? How About The Inferiority Of Women Then?"
"I Never Said Women Were Inferior."
"You Did With Your Eyes."
"Besides, You're An Exceptional Woman."
"You Can't Get Out Of It With A Compliment. I'm An Ordinary Woman
And I'm Going To Beat A Real Man."
Ashe Frowned.
"I Don't Like To Think Of Ourselves As Working Against Each
Other."
"Why Not?"
"Because I Like You."
"I Like You, Mr. Marson; But We Must Not Let Sentiment Interfere
With Business. You Want Mr. Peters' Five Thousand Dollars. So Do
I."
"I Hate The Thought Of Being The Instrument To Prevent You From
Getting The Money."
"You Won't Be. I Shall Be The Instrument To Prevent You From
Getting It. I Don't Like That Thought, Either; But One Has Got To
Face It."
"It Makes Me Feel Mean."
"That's Simply Your Old-Fashioned Masculine Attitude Toward The
Female, Mr. Marson. You Look On Woman As A Weak Creature, To Be
Shielded And Petted. We Aren't Anything Of The Sort. We're
Terrors! We're As Hard As Nails. We're Awful Creatures. You
Mustn't Let My Sex Interfere With Your Trying To Get This Reward.
Think Of Me As Though I Were Another Man. We're Up Against Each
Other In A Fair Fight, And I Don't Want Any Special Privileges.
If You Don't Do Your Best From Now Onward I Shall Never Forgive
You. Do You Understand?"
"I Suppose So."
"And We Shall Need To
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