Piccadilly Jim P. G. Wodehouse (great book club books .TXT) 📖

got to come across. See? My proposition is fifty-fifty. If you like it, I’m game to let you go ahead. If you don’t like it, then the deal’s off, and you’ll find that you’ve a darned poor chance of getting me. When I was kidnapped before, I was just a kid, but I can look after myself now. Well, what do you say?”

Jimmy found it hard at first to say anything. He had never properly understood the possibilities of Ogden’s character before. The longer he contemplated him, the more admirable Ann’s scheme appeared. It seemed to him that only a resolute keeper of a home for dogs would be adequately equipped for dealing with this remarkable youth.

“This is a commercial age,” he said.

“You bet it is,” said Ogden. “My middle name is business. Say, are you working this on your own, or are you in with Buck Maginnis and his crowd?”

“I don’t think I know Mr. Maginnis.”

“He’s the guy who kidnapped me the first time. He’s a roughneck. Smooth Sam Fisher got away with me the second time. Maybe you’re in with Sam?”

“No.”

“No, I guess not. I heard that he had married and retired from business. I rather wish you were one of Buck’s lot. I like Buck. When he kidnapped me, I lived with him and he gave me a swell time. When I left him, a woman came and interviewed me about it for one of the Sunday papers. Sob stuff. Called the piece ‘Even Kidnappers Have Tender Hearts Beneath A Rough Exterior.’ I’ve got it upstairs in my press-clipping album. It was pretty bad slush. Buck Maginnis hasn’t got any tender heart beneath his rough exterior, but he’s a good sort and I liked him. We used to shoot craps. And he taught me to chew. I’d be tickled to death to have Buck get me again. But, if you’re working on your own, all right. It’s all the same to me, provided you meet me on the terms.”

“You certainly are a fascinating child.”

“Less of it, less of it. I’ve troubles enough to bear without having you getting fresh. Well, what about it? Talk figures. If I let you take me away, do we divvy up or don’t we? That’s all you’ve got to say.”

“That’s easily settled. I’ll certainly give you half of whatever I get.”

Ogden looked wistfully at the writing-desk.

“I wish I could have that in writing. But I guess it wouldn’t stand in law. I suppose I shall have to trust you.”

“Honour among thieves.”

“Less of the thieves. This is just a straight business proposition. I’ve got something valuable to sell, and I’m darned if I’m going to keep giving it away. I’ve been too easy. I ought to have thought of this before. All right, then, that’s settled. Now it’s up to you. You can think out the rest of it yourself.”

He heaved himself out of the chair, and left the room. Ann, coming down from the gallery, found Jimmy meditating. He looked up at the sound of her step.

“Well, that seems to make it pretty easy for us, doesn’t it?” he said. “It solves the problem of ways and means.”

“But this is awful. This alters everything. It isn’t safe for you to stay here. You must go away at once. They’ve found you out. You may be arrested at any moment.”

“That’s a side-issue. The main point is to put this thing through. Then we can think about what is going to happen to me.”

“But can’t you see the risk you’re running?”

“I don’t mind. I want to help you.”

“I won’t let you.”

“You must.”

“But do be sensible. What would you think of me if I allowed you to face this danger⁠—?”

“I wouldn’t think any differently of you. My opinion of you is a fixed thing. Nothing can alter it. I tried to tell you on the boat, but you wouldn’t let me. I think you’re the most perfect, wonderful girl in all the world. I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you. I knew who you were when we met for half a minute that day in London. We were utter strangers, but I knew you. You were the girl I had been looking for all my life. Good Heavens, you talk of risks. Can’t you understand that just being with you and speaking to you and knowing that we share this thing together is enough to wipe out any thought of risk? I’d do anything for you. And you expect me to back out of this thing because there is a certain amount of danger!”

Ann had retreated to the door, and was looking at him with wide eyes. With other young men⁠—and there had been many⁠—who had said much the same sort of thing to her since her débutante days she had been cool and composed⁠—a little sorry, perhaps, but in no doubt as to her own feelings and her ability to resist their pleadings. But now her heart was racing, and the conviction had begun to steal over her that the cool and composed Ann Chester was in imminent danger of making a fool of herself. Quite suddenly, without any sort of warning, she realised that there was some quality in Jimmy which called aloud to some corresponding quality in herself⁠—a nebulous something that made her know that he and she were mates. She knew herself hard to please where men were concerned. She could not have described what it was in her that all the men she had met, the men with whom she had golfed and ridden and yachted, had failed to satisfy: but, ever since she had acquired the power of self-analysis, she had known that it was something which was a solid and indestructible part of her composition. She could not have put into words what quality she demanded in man, but she had always known that she would recognise it when she found it: and she recognised it now in Jimmy. It was a recklessness, an irresponsibility, a