A Gentleman of Leisure P. G. Wodehouse (list of ebook readers TXT) 📖

“It’s preposterous,” began Sir Thomas.

Lord Dreever gave the door handle a rattle. He stopped.

“It’s a holdup all right,” said Jimmy soothingly. “I don’t want to butt in on a family conclave, but my advice, if asked, would be to unbelt before the shooting begins. You’ve got something worse than a pipe pointing at you now. As regards my position in the business, don’t worry. My silence is thrown in gratis. Give me one loving smile and my lips are sealed.”

Sir Thomas turned on him.

“As for you⁠—” he cried.

“Never mind about Pitt,” said his lordship. “He’s a dashed good fellow, Pitt. I wish there were more like him. And he wasn’t pinching the stuff either. If you had only listened when he tried to tell you, you mightn’t be in such a frightful hole. He was putting the things back, as he said. I know all about it. Well, what’s the answer?”

For a moment Sir Thomas seemed on the point of refusal. But just as he was about to speak his lordship opened the door, and at the movement he collapsed again.

“I will!” he cried. “I will!”

“Good,” said his lordship, with satisfaction. “That’s a bargain. Coming downstairs, Pitt, old man? We shall be wanted on the stage in about half a minute.”

“As an antidote to stage fright,” said Jimmy, as they went along the corridor, “little discussions of that kind may be highly recommended. I shouldn’t mind betting that you feel fit for anything.”

“I feel like a two-year-old,” assented his lordship enthusiastically. “I’ve forgotten all my part, but I don’t care. I’ll just go on and talk to them.”

“That,” said Jimmy, “is the right spirit. Charteris will get heart disease, but it’s the right spirit. A little more of that sort of thing and amateur theatricals would be worth listening to. Step lively, Roscius; the stage waits.”

Mr. McEachern sat in the billiard room smoking. He was alone. From where he sat he could hear distant strains of music. The more rigorous portion of the evening’s entertainment, the theatricals, was over, and the nobility and gentry, having done their duty by sitting through the performance, were now enjoying themselves in the ballroom. Everybody was happy. The play had been quite as successful as the usual amateur performance. The prompter had made himself a great favourite from the start, his series of duets with Spennie having been especially admired, and Jimmy, as became an old professional, had played his part with great finish and certainty of touch, though, like the bloodhounds in the performance of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, on tour, he had had poor support. But the audience bore no malice.

No collection of individuals is less vindictive than an audience at amateur theatricals. It was all over now. Charteris had literally gibbered in the presence of eyewitnesses at one point in the second act, when Spennie, by giving a wrong cue, had jerked the play abruptly into Act III (where his colleagues, dimly suspecting something wrong, but not knowing what, had kept it for some two minutes, to the mystification of the audience); but now even he had begun to forget. As he two-stepped down the room the lines of agony on his face were softened. He even smiled.

As for Spennie, the brilliance of his happy grin dazzled all beholders.

He was still wearing it when he invaded the solitude of Mr. McEachern. In every dance, however greatly he may be enjoying it, there comes a time when a man needs a meditative cigarette apart from the throng. It came to Spennie after the seventh item on the programme. The billiard room struck him as admirably suitable in every way. It was not likely to be used as a sitting out place, and it was near enough to the ballroom to enable him to hear when the music of item No. 9 should begin.

Mr. McEachern was glad to see him. In the turmoil following the theatricals he had been unable to get a word with any of the persons with whom he most wished to speak. He had been surprised that no announcement of the engagement had been made at the end of the performance. Spennie would be able to supply him with information as to when the announcement might be expected.

Spennie hesitated for an instant when he saw who was in the room. He was not overanxious for a tête-à-tête with Molly’s father just then; but reflecting that after all he, Spennie, was not to blame for any disappointment that might be troubling the other, he switched on his grin again and walked in.

“Came in for a smoke,” he explained, by way of opening the conversation. “Not dancing the next.”

“Come in, my boy, come in,” said Mr. McEachern. “I was waiting to see you.”

Spennie regretted his entrance. He had supposed that the other had heard the news of the breaking-off of the engagement. Evidently, from his manner, he had not. This was a nuisance.

He sat down and lit a cigarette, casting about the while for an innocuous topic of conversation.

“Like the show?” he inquired.

“Fine,” said Mr. McEachern. “By the way⁠—”

Spennie groaned inwardly. He had forgotten that a determined man can change the conversation to any subject he pleases by means of those three words.

“By the way,” said Mr. McEachern, “I thought Sir Thomas⁠—wasn’t your uncle intending to announce⁠—?”

“Well, yes, he was,” said Spennie.

“Going to declare it during the dancing, maybe?”

“Well⁠—er⁠—no. The fact is, he’s not going to do it at all, don’t you know.” He inspected the red end of his cigarette closely. “As a matter of fact, it’s kind of broken off.”

The other’s exclamation jarred on him. Rotten, having to talk about this sort of thing!

“Broken off?”

Spennie nodded.

“Miss McEachern thought it over, don’t you know,” he said, “and came to the conclusion that it wasn’t good enough.”

Now that it was said he felt easier. It had merely been the awkwardness of having to touch on the thing that had troubled him. That his news might