Part 11

"If Mr. Wooster was up a tree, I have no doubt he was actuated by excellent motives and had only Miss Mapleton's best interests at heart."

The policeman brooded.

"Ho!" he said. "Well, if you want to know, I don't believe a word of it. We had a telephone call at the station saying there was somebody in Miss Mapleton's garden, and I found this fellow up a tree. It's my belief you're both in this, and I'm going to take you in to the lady for identification."

Jeeves inclined his head gracefully.

"I shall be delighted to accompany you, officer, if such is your wish. And I feel sure that in this connection I may speak for Mr. Wooster also. He, too, I am confident, will interpose no obstacle in the way of your plans. If you consider that circumstances have placed Mr. Wooster in a position that may be termed equivocal, or even compromising, it will naturally be his wish to exculpate himself at the earliest----"

"Here!" said the policeman, slightly rattled. "What's all this?"

"Officer?"

"Less of it."

"Just as you say, officer."

"Switch it off and come along."

"Very good, officer."

* * * * *

I must say that I have enjoyed functions more than that walk to the front door. It seemed to me that the doom had come upon me, so to speak, and I thought it hard that a gallant effort like Jeeves's should have failed to click.

Even to me his story had rung almost true in spots, and it was a great blow that the man behind the lantern had not sucked it in without question. There's no doubt about it: being a policeman warps a man's mind and ruins that sunny faith in his fellow human beings which is the foundation of a lovable character.

I could see no gleam of light in the situation. True, the Mapleton would identify me as the nephew of her old friend, thus putting the stopper on the night in the prison cell, but, when you came right down to it, a fat lot of use that was.

The kid Clementina was presumably still out in the night somewhere, and she would be lugged in and the full facts revealed, and then the burning glance, the few cold words, and the long letter to Aunt Agatha. I wasn't sure that a good, straight term of penal servitude wouldn't have been a happier ending.

So, what with one consideration and another, the heart, as I toddled in through the front door, was more or less bowed down with weight of woe. We went along the passage and into the study, and there, standing behind a desk with the steel-rimmed spectacles glittering nastily, was the boss in person. I gave her one look, then shut my eyes.

"Ah!" said Miss Mapleton.

Now, uttered in a certain way--dragged out, if you know what I mean, and starting high up and going down into the lower register--the word "Ah!" can be as sinister and devastating as the word "Ho!" In fact, it is a very moot question which is the scalier.

But what stunned me was that this wasn't the way she had said it. It had been, or my ears deceived me, a genial "Ah!" A matey "Ah!" The "Ah!" of one old buddy to another. And this startled me so much that I ventured to look at her again. And a stifled exclamation burst from Bertram's lips.

The breath-taking exhibit before me was in person a bit on the short side. I mean to say, she didn't tower above one, or anything like that. But, to compensate for this lack of inches, she possessed to a remarkable degree that sort of quiet air of being unwilling to stand any rannygazoo which females who run schools always have. When _in statu pupillari_, I had noticed the same thing in my old head master, one glance from whose eye had invariably been sufficient to make me confess all. Sergeant majors are like that, too. Also traffic cops and some post-office girls. It's something in the way they purse up their lips and look through you.

In short, through years of disciplining the young--ticking off Isabel and speaking with quiet severity to Gertrude and that sort of thing--Miss Mapleton had acquired in the process of time rather the air of a female lion tamer. But now, though she still resembled a lion tamer, her bearing had most surprisingly become that of a chummy lion tamer--a tamer who, after tucking the lions in for the night, relaxes in the society of the boys.

"So you did not find them, Mr. Wooster?" she said. "I am sorry. But I am none the less grateful for the trouble you have taken, nor lacking in appreciation of your courage. I consider that you have behaved splendidly."

I felt the mouth opening feebly and the vocal cords twitching, but I couldn't manage to say anything. I was simply unable to follow her train of thought. I was astonished. Amazed. In fact, "dumbfounded" about sums it up.

The hellhound of the Law gave a sort of yelp, rather like a wolf that sees its Russian peasant getting away.

"You identify this man, ma'am?"

"Identify him? In what way identify him?"

Jeeves joined the symposium.

"I fancy the officer is under the impression, madam, that Mr. Wooster was in your garden for some unlawful purpose. I informed him that Mr. Wooster was the nephew of your friend, Mrs. Spenser Gregson, but he refused to credit me."

There was a pause. Miss Mapleton eyed the constable for an instant as if she had caught him sucking acid drops during the Scripture lesson.

"Do you mean to tell me, officer," she said, in a voice that hit him just under the third button of the tunic and went straight through to the spinal column, "that you have had the imbecility to bungle this whole affair by mistaking Mr. Wooster for a burglar?"

"He was up a tree, ma'am."

"And why should he not be up a tree? No doubt you had climbed the tree in order to watch the better, Mr. Wooster?"

I could answer that. The first shock over, the old sang-froid had returned.

"Yes. Rather. That's it. Of course. Certainly. Quite. Absolutely," I said. "Watch the better. That's it in a nutshell."

"I took the liberty of suggesting that to the officer, madam, but he declined to accept the theory as tenable."

"The officer is a fool," said Miss Mapleton. It seemed a close thing for a moment whether or not she would rap him on the knuckles with a ruler. "By this time, no doubt, owing to his idiocy, the miscreants have made good their escape. And it is for this," said Miss Mapleton, "that we pay rates and taxes!"

"Awful!" I said.

"Iniquitous."

"A bally shame."

"A crying scandal," said Miss Mapleton.

"A grim show," I agreed.

In fact, we were just becoming more like a couple of love birds than anything, when through the open window there suddenly breezed a noise.

* * * * *

I'm never at my best at describing things. At school, when we used to do Essays and English Composition, my report generally read, "Has little or no ability, but does his best," or words to that effect. True, in the course of the years I have picked up a vocabulary of sorts from Jeeves, but even so I'm not nearly hot enough to draw a word picture that would do justice to that extraordinarily hefty crash.

Once, when I was in New York, I stopped at a hotel about six yards from where they were putting up that new Grand Central building, and I thought that had taught me all there was to know about noise. But it was only now that I discovered what noise could really be. Try to imagine the Albert Hall falling on the Crystal Palace and you will have got the rough idea.

All four of us, even Jeeves, sprang several inches from the floor.

Miss Mapleton was her calm, masterful self again in a second.

"One of the men appears to have fallen through the conservatory roof," she said. "Perhaps you will endeavour at the eleventh hour to justify your existence, officer, by making investigations."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Try not to bungle matters this time."

"No, ma'am."

"Please hurry, then. Do you intend to stand there gaping all night?"

"Yes, ma'am. No, ma'am. Yes, ma'am."

It was pretty to hear him.

"It is an odd coincidence, Mr. Wooster," said Miss Mapleton, becoming instantly matey once more as the outcast removed himself. "I had just finished writing a letter to your aunt when you arrived. I shall certainly reopen it to tell her how gallantly you have behaved to-night.

"I have not in the past entertained a very high opinion of the modern young man, but you have caused me to alter it. To track these men unarmed through a dark garden argues courage of a high order. And it was most courteous of you to think of calling upon me. I appreciate it. Are you making a long stay in Bingley?"

This was another one I could answer.

"No," I said. "Afraid not. Must be in London to-morrow."

"Perhaps you could lunch before your departure?"

"Afraid not. Thanks most awfully. Very important engagement that I can't get out of. Eh, Jeeves? Have to catch the ten-thirty train, what?"

"Without fail, sir."

"I am sorry," said Miss Mapleton. "I had hoped that you would be able to say a few words to my girls. Some other time, perhaps?"

"Absolutely."

"You must let me know when you are coming to Bingley again."

"When I come to Bingley again," I said, "I shall certainly let you know."

"If I remember your plans correctly, sir, you are not likely to be in Bingley for some little time, sir."

"Not for some considerable time, Jeeves," I said.

* * * * *

The front door closed. I passed a hand across the brow.

"Tell me all, Jeeves," I said. "I am fogged."

"It is quite simple, sir. I ventured to take the liberty, on my own responsibility, of putting into operation the alternative scheme which, if you remember, I wished to outline to you."

"What was it?"

"It occurred to me, sir, that it would be most judicious for me to call at the back door and desire an interview with Miss Mapleton. This, I fancied, would enable me, while the maid had gone to convey my request to Miss Mapleton, to introduce the young lady into the house unobserved."

"And did you?"

"Yes, sir. She proceeded up the back stairs and is now safely in bed."

I frowned. The thought of the kid Clementina jarred upon me.

"She is, is she?" I said. "A murrain on her, Jeeves, and may she be stood in the corner next Sunday for not knowing her collect. And then you saw Miss Mapleton?"

"Yes, sir."

"And told her that I was out in the garden chevying burglars with my bare hands?"

"Yes, sir."

"And had been on my way to call upon her?"

"Yes, sir."

"And now she's busy adding a postscript to her letter to Aunt Agatha, speaking of me in terms of unstinted praise."

"Yes, sir."

I drew a deep breath. It was too dark for me to see the superhuman intelligence which must have been sloshing about all over the man's features. I tried to, but couldn't make it.

"Jeeves," I said, "I should have been guided by you from the first."

"It might have spared you some temporary unpleasantness, sir."

"Unpleasantness is right. When that lantern shone up at me in the silent night, Jeeves, I thought I had unshipped a rib.... Jeeves!"

"Sir?"

"That Antibes expedition is off."

"I am glad to hear it, sir."

"If young Bobbie Wickham can get me into a mess like this in a quiet spot like Bingley-on-Sea, what might she not be able to accomplish at a really lively resort like Antibes?"

"Precisely, sir. Miss Wickham, as I have said, though a charming----"

"Yes, yes, Jeeves. There is no necessity to stress the point. The Wooster eyes are opened." I hesitated. "Jeeves."

"Sir?"

"Those plus-fours."

"Yes, sir."

"You may give them to the poor."

"Thank you very much, sir."

I sighed. "It is my heart's blood, Jeeves."

"I appreciate the sacrifice, sir. But once the first pang of separation is over you will feel much easier without them."

"So be it, then, Jeeves," I said. "So be it."

Jeeves and the Love That Purifies

There is a ghastly moment in the year, generally about the beginning of August, when Jeeves insists on taking a holiday, the slacker, and legs it off to some seaside resort for a couple of weeks, leaving me stranded. This moment had now arrived, and we were discussing what was to be done with the young master.

"I had gathered the impression, sir," said Jeeves, "that you were proposing to accept Mr. Sipperley's invitation to join him at his Hampshire residence."

I laughed. One of those bitter, rasping ones.

"Correct, Jeeves. I was. But mercifully I was enabled to discover young Sippy's foul plot in time. Do you know what?"

"No, sir."

"My spies informed me that Sippy's fiancée, Miss Moon, was to be there. Also his fiancée's mother, Mrs. Moon, and his fiancée's small brother, Master Moon. You see the hideous treachery lurking behind the invitation?

"Obviously, my job was to be the task of keeping Mrs. Moon and little Sebastian Moon interested and amused while Sippy and his blighted girl went off for the day, roaming the pleasant woodlands and talking of this and that. I doubt if anyone has ever had a narrower escape. You remember little Sebastian?"

"Yes, sir."

"His goggle-eyes? His golden curls?"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't know why it is, but I've never been able to bear with fortitude anything in the shape of a kid with golden curls. Confronted with one, I feel the urge to step on him or drop things on him from a height."

"Many strong natures are affected in the same way, sir."

"So no _chez_ Sippy for me. Was that the front doorbell ringing?"

"Yes, sir."

"Somebody stands without?"

"Yes, sir."

"Better go and see who it is."

"Yes, sir."

He oozed off, to return a moment later bearing a telegram. I opened it, and a soft smile played about the lips.

"Amazing how often things happen as if on a cue, Jeeves. This is from Aunt Dahlia, inviting me down to her place in Worcestershire."

"Most satisfactory, sir."

"Yes. How I came to overlook her when searching for a haven, I can't think. The ideal home from home. Picturesque surroundings, company's own water, and the best cook in England. You have not forgotten Anatole?"

"No, sir."

"And above all, Jeeves, at Aunt Dahlia's there should be an almost total shortage of blasted kids. True, there is her son Bonzo, who, I take it, will be home for the holidays, but I don't mind Bonzo. Buzz off and send a wire, accepting."

"Yes, sir."

"And then shove a few necessaries together, including golf clubs and tennis racket."

"Very good, sir. I am glad that matters have been so happily adjusted."

* * * * *

I think I have mentioned before that my Aunt Dahlia stands alone in the grim regiment of my aunts as a real good sort and a chirpy sportsman. She is the one, if you remember, who married old Tom Travers and, with the assistance of Jeeves, lured Mrs. Bingo Little's French cook, Anatole, into her own employment.

To visit her is always a pleasure. She generally has some cheery birds staying with her, and there is none of that rot about getting up for breakfast which one is so sadly apt to find at country houses.

It was, accordingly, with unalloyed lightness of heart that I edged the two-seater into the garage at Brinkley Court, Worc., and strolled round to the house by way of the shrubbery and the tennis lawn, to report arrival. I had just got across the lawn when a head poked itself out of the smoking-room window and beamed at me in an amiable sort of way.

"Ah, Mr. Wooster," it said.

"What ho," I replied, not to be outdone in the courtesies.

It had taken me a couple of seconds to place this head. I now perceived that it belonged to a rather moth-eaten septuagenarian of the name of Anstruther, an old friend of Aunt Dahlia's late father. I had met him at her house in London once or twice. An agreeable cove, but somewhat given to nervous breakdowns.

"Just arrived?" he asked, beaming as before.

"This minute," I said, also beaming.

"I fancy you will find our good hostess in the drawing room."

"Right," I said, and after a bit more beaming to and fro I pushed on.

Aunt Dahlia was in the drawing room, and welcomed me with gratifying enthusiasm. She beamed, too. It was one of those big days for beamers.

"Hullo, ugly," she said. "So here you are. Thank heaven you were able to come."

It was the right tone, and one I should be glad to hear in others of the family circle, notably my Aunt Agatha.

"Always a pleasure to enjoy your hosp., Aunt Dahlia," I said cordially. "I anticipate a delightful and restful visit. I see you've got Mr. Anstruther staying here. Anybody else?"

"Do you know Lord Snettisham?" Aunt Dahlia asked.

"I've met him, racing," I answered.

"He's here, and Lady Snettisham."

"And Bonzo, of course?"

"Yes. And Thomas."

"Uncle Thomas?"

"No, he's in Scotland. Your cousin Thomas."

"You don't mean Aunt Agatha's loathly son?"

"Of course I do. How many cousin Thomases do you think you've got, fathead? Agatha has gone to Homburg and planted the child on me."

I was visibly agitated.

"But Aunt Dahlia! Do you realize what you've taken on? Have you an inkling of the scourge you've introduced into your home? In the society of young Thos., strong men quail. He is England's premier fiend in human shape. There is no devilry beyond his scope."

"That's what I always gathered from the form book," agreed the relative. "But just now, curse him, he's behaving like something out of a Sunday-school story. You see, poor old Mr. Anstruther is very frail these days, and when he found he was in a house containing two small boys he acted promptly. He offered a prize of five pounds to whichever behaved best during his stay.

"The consequence is that, ever since, Thomas has had large white wings sprouting out of his shoulders." A shadow seemed to pass across her face. She appeared embittered. "Mercenary little brute!" she said. "I never saw such a sickeningly well-behaved kid in my life. It's enough to make one despair of human nature."

I couldn't follow her. "But isn't that all to the good?" I asked.

"No, it's not."

"I can't see why. Surely a smug, oily Thos. about the house is better than a Thos. raging hither and thither and being a menace to society? Stands to reason."

"It doesn't stand to anything of the kind. You see, Bertie, this Good Conduct prize has made things a bit complex. There are wheels within wheels. The thing stirred Jane Snettisham's sporting blood to such an extent that she insisted on having a bet with me on the result."

A great light shone upon me. I got what she was driving at.

"Ah!" I said. "Now I follow. Now I see. Now I comprehend. She's betting on Thos., is she?"

"Yes. And naturally, knowing him, I thought the thing was in the bag."

"Of course."

"I couldn't see myself losing. Heaven knows I have no illusions about my darling Bonzo. Bonzo is, and has been from birth, a pest. But to bet that he would nose out Thomas in a Good Conduct contest seemed to me simply money for jam."

"Absolutely."

"When it comes to devilry, Bonzo is just a good, ordinary selling plater, whereas Thomas is a classic yearling."

"Exactly. I don't see that you have any cause to worry. Thos. can't last. He's bound to crack."

"Yes. But before that the mischief may be done."

"Mischief?"

"Yes. There is dirty work afoot, Bertie," said Aunt Dahlia gravely. "When I booked this bet I reckoned without the hideous blackness of the Snettisham soul. Only yesterday it came to my knowledge that Jack Snettisham had been urging Bonzo to climb on the roof and boo down Mr. Anstruther's chimney."

"No!"

"Yes. Mr. Anstruther is very frail, poor old fellow, and it would have frightened him into a fit. On coming out of which, his first action would have been to disqualify Bonzo and declare Thomas the winner by default."

"But Bonzo did not boo?"

"No," said Aunt Dahlia, and a mother's pride rang in her voice. "He firmly refused to boo. Mercifully, he is in love at the moment, and it has quite altered his nature. He scorned the tempter."

"In love? With whom?"

"Lillian Gish. We had an old film of hers at the Bijou Dream in the village a week ago, and Bonzo saw her for the first time. He came out with a pale, set face, and ever since has been trying to lead a finer, better life. So the peril was averted."

"That's good."

"Yes. But now it's my turn. You don't suppose I am going to take a thing like that lying down, do you? Treat me right, and I am fairness itself; but if there is going to be any of this nobbling of starters they'll jolly well find I can play that game, too.

"If this Good Conduct contest is to be run on rough lines I can do my bit as well as anyone. Far too much hangs on the issue for me to handicap myself by remembering the lessons I learned at my mother's knee."

"Lot of money involved?"

"Much more than mere money. I've bet Anatole against Jane Snettisham's kitchenmaid."

"Great Scott! Uncle Thomas will have something to say if he comes back and finds Anatole gone."

"And won't he say it!"

"Pretty long odds. I mean, Anatole is famed far and wide as a hash-slinger without peer."

"Well, Jane Snettisham's kitchenmaid is not to be sneezed at. She is very hot stuff, they tell me, and good kitchenmaids nowadays are about as rare as original Holbeins. Besides, I had to give her a shade the better of the odds. She stood out for it.

"Well, anyway, to get back to what I was saying, if the opposition are going to place temptations in Bonzo's path, they shall jolly well be placed in Thomas's path, too, and plenty of them. So ring for Jeeves and let him get his brain working."

"But I haven't brought Jeeves."

"You haven't brought Jeeves?"

"No. He always takes his holiday at this time of year. He's down at Bognor for the shrimping."

Aunt Dahlia registered deep concern. "Then send for him at once! What earthly use do you suppose you are without Jeeves, you poor ditherer?"

I drew myself up a trifle--in fact, if I recollect rightly, to my full height. Nobody has a greater respect for Jeeves than I have, but the Wooster pride was stung.

"Jeeves isn't the only one with brains," I said coolly. "Leave this thing to me, Aunt Dahlia. By dinner time to-night I shall hope to have a fully matured scheme to submit for your approval. If I can't thoroughly encompass this Thos., I'll eat my hat."

"About all you'll get to eat if Anatole leaves," said Aunt Dahlia, in a manner which I did not like to see.

I was brooding pretty tensely as I left the presence. I have always had a suspicion that Aunt Dahlia, while invariably matey and bonhomous and seeming to take pleasure in my society, has a lower opinion of my intelligence than I quite like. Too often it is her practice to address me as fathead, and if I put forward any little thought or idea or fancy in her hearing it is apt to be greeted with the affectionate but jarring guffaw.

In our interview she had hinted quite plainly that she considered me negligible in a crisis which, like the present one, called for initiative and resource. It was my intention to show her how greatly she had under-estimated me.

To let you see the sort of fellow I really am, I got a ripe, excellent idea before I had gone halfway down the corridor. I examined it for the space of one and a half cigarettes, and could see no flaw in it, provided--I say, provided old Mr. Anstruther's notion of what constituted bad conduct squared with mine.

The great thing on these occasions, as Jeeves will tell you, is to get a toe hold on the psychology of the individual. Study the individual, and you will bring home the bacon.

Now, I had been studying young Thos. for years, and I knew his psychology from caviar to nuts. He is one of those kids who never let the sun go down on their wrath, if you know what I mean. I mean to say, do something to annoy or offend or upset this juvenile thug and he will proceed at the earliest possible opp. to wreak a hideous vengeance upon you.