The Intrusion of Jimmy by P. G. Wodehouse (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

to be produced, would have resigned their places without a twinge of regret. People who had schemed to get the best and longest parts were wishing now that they had been content with "First Footman," or "Giles, a villager."

"I'll never run an amateur show again as long as I live," confided Charteris to Jimmy almost tearfully. "It's not good enough. Most of them aren't word-perfect yet."

"It'll be all right—"

"Oh, don't say it'll be all right on the night."

"I wasn't going to," said Jimmy. "I was going to say it'll be all right after the night. People will soon forget how badly the thing went."

"You're a nice, comforting sort of man, aren't you?" said Charteris.

"Why worry?" said Jimmy. "If you go on like this, it'll be Westminster Abbey for you in your prime. You'll be getting brain-fever."

Jimmy himself was one of the few who were feeling reasonably cheerful. He was deriving a keen amusement at present from the maneuvers of Mr. Samuel Galer, of New York. This lynx-eyed man; having been instructed by Mr. McEachern to watch Jimmy, was doing so with a thoroughness that would have roused the suspicions of a babe. If Jimmy went to the billiard-room after dinner, Mr. Galer was there to keep him company. If, during the course of the day, he had occasion to fetch a handkerchief or a cigarette-case from his bedroom, he was sure, on emerging, to stumble upon Mr. Galer in the corridor. The employees of Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency believed in earning their salaries.

Occasionally, after these encounters, Jimmy would come upon Sir Thomas Blunt's valet, the other man in whom Spike's trained eye had discerned the distinguishing marks of the sleuth. He was usually somewhere round the corner at these moments, and, when collided with, apologized with great politeness. Jimmy decided that he must have come under suspicion in this case vicariously, through Spike. Spike in the servants' hall would, of course, stand out conspicuously enough to catch the eye of a detective on the look out for sin among the servants; and he himself, as Spike's employer, had been marked down as a possible confederate.

It tickled him to think that both these giant brains should be so greatly exercised on his account.

He had been watching Molly closely during these days. So far, no announcement of the engagement had been made. It struck him that possibly it was being reserved for public mention on the night of the theatricals. The whole county would be at the castle then. There could be no more fitting moment. He sounded Lord Dreever, and the latter said moodily that he was probably right.

"There's going to be a dance of sorts after the show," he said, "and it'll be done then, I suppose. No getting out of it after that. It'll be all over the county. Trust my uncle for that. He'll get on a table, and shout it, shouldn't wonder. And it'll be in the Morning Post next day, and Katie'll see it! Only two days more, oh, lord!"

Jimmy deduced that Katie was the Savoy girl, concerning whom his lordship had vouchsafed no particulars save that she was a ripper and hadn't a penny.

Only two days! Like the battle of Waterloo, it was going to be a close-run affair. More than ever now, he realized how much Molly meant to him; and there were moments when it seemed to him that she, too, had begun to understand. That night on the terrace seemed somehow to have changed their relationship. He thought he had got closer to her. They were in touch. Before, she had been frank, cheerful, unembarrassed. Now, he noticed a constraint in her manner, a curious shyness. There was a barrier between them, but it was not the old barrier. He had ceased to be one of a crowd.

But it was a race against time. The first day slipped by, a blank, and the second; till, now, it was but a matter of hours. The last afternoon had come.

Not even Mr. Samuel Galer, of Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency, could have kept a more unflagging watch than did Jimmy during those hours. There was no rehearsal that afternoon, and the members of the company, in various stages of nervous collapse, strayed distractedly about the grounds. First one, then another, would seize upon Molly, while Jimmy, watching from afar, cursed their pertinacity.

At last, she wondered off alone, and Jimmy, quitting his ambush, followed.

She walked in the direction of the lake. It had been a terribly hot, oppressive afternoon. There was thunder in the air. Through the trees, the lake glittered invitingly.

She was standing at the water's edge when Jimmy came up. Her back was turned. She was rocking with her foot a Canadian canoe that lay alongside the bank. She started as he spoke. His feet on the soft turf had made no sound.

"Can I take you out on the lake?" he said.

She did not answer for a moment. She was plainly confused.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I—I'm waiting for lord Dreever."

Jimmy saw that she was nervous. There was tension in the air. She was looking away from him, out across the lake, and her face was flushed.

"Won't you?" he said.

"I'm sorry," she said again.

Jimmy looked over his shoulder. Down the lower terrace was approaching the long form of his lordship. He walked with pensive jerkiness, not as one hurrying to a welcome tryst. As Jimmy looked, he vanished behind the great clump of laurels that stood on the lowest terrace. In another minute, he would reappear round them.

Gently, but with extreme dispatch, Jimmy placed a hand on either side of Molly's waist. The next moment, he had swung her off her feet, and lowered her carefully to the cushions in the bow of the canoe.

Then, jumping in himself with a force that made the boat rock, he loosened the mooring-rope, seized the paddle, and pushed off.