Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (rom com books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
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Consummation Of Exercise One, That He Was Doing Anything Funny.
And The Behavior Of Those Present Seemed To Justify His
Confidence. The Proprietor Of The Hotel Mathis Regarded Him
Without A Smile. The Proprietor Of The Hotel Previtali Might Have
Been In A Trance, For All The Interest He Displayed. The Hotel
Employees Continued Their Tasks Impassively. The Children Were
Blind And Dumb. The Cat Across The Way Stropped Its Backbone
Against The Railings Unheeding.
But, Even As He Unscrambled Himself And Resumed A Normal Posture,
From His Immediate Rear There Rent The Quiet Morning Air A Clear
And Musical Laugh. It Floated Out On The Breeze And Hit Him Like
A Bullet.
Three Months Ago Ashe Would Have Accepted The Laugh As
Inevitable, And Would Have Refused To Allow It To Embarrass Him;
But Long Immunity From Ridicule Had Sapped His Resolution. He
Spun Round With A Jump, Flushed And Self-Conscious.
From The Window Of The First-Floor Front Of Number Seven A Girl
Was Leaning. The Spring Sunshine Played On Her Golden Hair And
Lit Up Her Bright Blue Eyes, Fixed On His Flanneled And Sweatered
Person With A Fascinated Amusement. Even As He Turned, The Laugh
Smote Him Afresh.
For The Space Of Perhaps Two Seconds They Stared At Each Other,
Eye To Eye. Then She Vanished Into The Room.
Ashe Was Beaten. Three Months Ago A Million Girls Could Have
Laughed At His Morning Exercises Without Turning Him From His
Purpose. Today This One Scoffer, Alone And Unaided, Was
Sufficient For His Undoing. The Depression Which Exercise Had
Begun To Dispel Surged Back On Him. He Had No Heart To Continue.
Sadly Gathering Up His Belongings, He Returned To His Room, And
Found A Cold Bath Tame And Uninspiring.
The Breakfasts--Included In The Rent--Provided By Mrs. Bell, The
Landlady Of Number Seven, Were Held By Some Authorities To Be
Specially Designed To Quell The Spirits Of Their Victims, Should
They Tend To Soar Excessively. By The Time Ashe Had Done His Best
With The Disheveled Fried Egg, The Chicory Blasphemously Called
Coffee, And The Charred Bacon, Misery Had Him Firmly In Its Grip.
And When He Forced Himself To The Table, And Began To Try To
Concoct The Latest Of The Adventures Of Gridley Quayle,
Investigator, His Spirit Groaned Within Him.
This Morning, As He Sat And Chewed His Pen, His Loathing For
Gridley Seemed To Have Reached Its Climax. It Was His Habit, In
Writing These Stories, To Think Of A Good Title First, And Then
Fit An Adventure To It. And Overnight, In A Moment Of
Inspiration, He Had Jotted Down On An Envelope The Words: "The
Adventure Of The Wand Of Death."
Chapter 1 Pg 6
It Was With The Sullen Repulsion Of A Vegetarian Who Finds A
Caterpillar In His Salad That He Now Sat Glaring At Them.
The Title Had Seemed So Promising Overnight--So Full Of Strenuous
Possibilities. It Was Still Speciously Attractive; But Now That
The Moment Had Arrived For Writing The Story Its Flaws Became
Manifest.
What Was A Wand Of Death? It Sounded Good; But, Coming Down To
Hard Facts, What Was It? You Cannot Write A Story About A Wand Of
Death Without Knowing What A Wand Of Death Is; And, Conversely,
If You Have Thought Of Such A Splendid Title You Cannot Jettison
It Offhand. Ashe Rumpled His Hair And Gnawed His Pen.
There Came A Knock At The Door.
Ashe Spun Round In His Chair. This Was The Last Straw! If He Had
Told Mrs. Ball Once That He Was Never To Be Disturbed In The
Morning On Any Pretext Whatsoever, He Had Told Her Twenty Times.
It Was Simply Too Infernal To Be Endured If His Work Time Was To
Be Cut Into Like This. Ashe Ran Over In His Mind A Few Opening
Remarks.
"Come In!" He Shouted, And Braced Himself For Battle.
A Girl Walked In--The Girl Of The First-Floor Front; The Girl
With The Blue Eyes, Who Had Laughed At His Larsen Exercises.
Various Circumstances Contributed To The Poorness Of The Figure
Ashe Cut In The Opening Moments Of This Interview. In The First
Place, He Was Expecting To See His Landlady, Whose Height Was
About Four Feet Six, And The Sudden Entry Of Somebody Who Was
About Five Feet Seven Threw The Universe Temporarily Out Of
Focus. In The Second Place, In Anticipation Of Mrs. Bell's Entry,
He Had Twisted His Face Into A Forbidding Scowl, And It Was No
Slight Matter To Change This On The Spur Of The Moment Into A
Pleasant Smile. Finally, A Man Who Has Been Sitting For Half An
Hour In Front Of A Sheet Of Paper Bearing The Words: "The
Adventure Of The Wand Of Death," And Trying To Decide What A Wand
Of Death Might Be, Has Not His Mind Under Proper Control.
The Net Result Of These Things Was That, For Perhaps Half A
Minute, Ashe Behaved Absurdly. He Goggled And He Yammered. An
Alienist, Had One Been Present, Would Have Made Up His Mind About
Him Without Further Investigation. For An Appreciable Time He Did
Not Think Of Rising From His Seat. When He Did, The Combined Leap
And Twist He Executed Practically Amounted To A Larsen Exercise.
Nor Was The Girl Unembarrassed. If Ashe Had Been Calmer He Would
Have Observed On Her Cheek The Flush Which Told That She, Too,
Was Finding The Situation Trying. But, Woman Being Ever Better
Equipped With Poise Than Man, It Was She Who Spoke First.
"I'm Afraid I'm Disturbing You."
Chapter 1 Pg 7
"No, No!" Said Ashe. "Oh, No; Not At All--Not At All! No. Oh,
No--Not At All--No!" And Would Have Continued To Play On The
Theme Indefinitely Had Not The Girl Spoken Again.
"I Wanted To Apologize," She Said, "For My Abominable Rudeness In
Laughing At You Just Now. It Was Idiotic Of Me And I Don't Know
Why I Did It. I'm Sorry."
Science, With A Thousand Triumphs To Her Credit, Has Not Yet
Succeeded In Discovering The Correct Reply For A Young Man To
Make Who Finds Himself In The Appalling Position Of Being
Apologized To By A Pretty Girl. If He Says Nothing He Seems
Sullen And Unforgiving. If He Says Anything He Makes A Fool Of
Himself. Ashe, Hesitating Between These Two Courses, Suddenly
Caught Sight Of The Sheet Of Paper Over Which He Had Been Poring
So Long.
"What Is A Wand Of Death?" He Asked.
"I Beg Your Pardon?"
"A Wand Of Death?"
"I Don't Understand."
The Delirium Of The Conversation Was Too Much For Ashe. He Burst
Out Laughing. A Moment Later The Girl Did The Same. And
Simultaneously Embarrassment Ceased To Be.
"I Suppose You Think I'm Mad?" Said Ashe.
"Certainly," Said The Girl.
"Well, I Should Have Been If You Hadn't Come In."
"Why Was That?"
"I Was Trying To Write A Detective Story."
"I Was Wondering Whether You Were A Writer."
"Do You Write?"
"Yes. Do You Ever Read Home Gossip?"
"Never!"
"You Are Quite Right To Speak In That Thankful Tone. It's A
Horrid Little Paper--All Brown-Paper Patterns And Advice To The
Lovelorn And Puzzles. I Do A Short Story For It Every Week, Under
Various Names. A Duke Or An Earl Goes With Each Story. I Loathe
It Intensely."
Chapter 1 Pg 8
"I Am Sorry For Your Troubles," Said Ashe Firmly; "But We Are
Wandering From The Point. What Is A Wand Of Death?"
"A Wand Of Death?"
"A Wand Of Death."
The Girl Frowned Reflectively.
"Why, Of Course; It's The Sacred Ebony Stick Stolen From The
Indian Temple, Which Is Supposed To Bring Death To Whoever
Possesses It. The Hero Gets Hold Of It, And The Priests Dog Him
And Send Him Threatening Messages. What Else Could It Be?"
Ashe Could Not Restrain His Admiration.
"This Is Genius!"
"Oh, No!"
"Absolute Genius. I See It All. The Hero Calls In Gridley Quayle,
And That Patronizing Ass, By The Aid Of A Series Of Wicked
Coincidences, Solves The Mystery; And There Am I, With Another
Month's Work Done."
She Looked At Him With Interest.
"Are You The Author Of Gridley Quayle?"
"Don't Tell Me You Read Him!"
"I Do Not Read Him! But He Is Published By The Same Firm That
Publishes Home Gossip, And I Can't Help Seeing His Cover
Sometimes While I Am Waiting In The Waiting Room To See The
Editress."
Ashe Felt Like One Who Meets A Boyhood's Chum On A Desert Island.
Here Was A Real Bond Between Them.
"Does The Mammoth Publish You, Too? Why, We Are Comrades In
Misfortune--Fellow Serfs! We Should Be Friends. Shall We Be
Friends?"
"I Should Be Delighted."
"Shall We Shake Hands, Sit Down, And Talk About Ourselves A
Little?"
"But I Am Keeping You From Your Work."
"An Errand Of Mercy."
She Sat Down. It Is A Simple Act, This Of Sitting Down; But, Like
Everything Else, It May Be An Index To Character. There Was
Chapter 1 Pg 9Something Wholly Satisfactory To Ashe In The Manner In Which This
Girl Did It. She Neither Seated Herself On The Extreme Edge Of
The Easy-Chair, As One Braced For Instant Flight; Nor Did She
Wallow In The Easy-Chair, As One Come To Stay For The Week-End.
She Carried Herself In An Unconventional Situation With An
Unstudied Self-Confidence That He Could Not Sufficiently Admire.
Etiquette Is Not Rigid In Arundell Street; But, Nevertheless, A
Girl In A First-Floor Front May Be Excused For Showing Surprise
And Hesitation When Invited To A Confidential Chat With A
Second-Floor Front Young Man Whom She Has Known Only Five
Minutes. But There Is A Freemasonry Among Those Who Live In Large
Cities On Small Earnings.
"Shall We Introduce Ourselves?" Said Ashe. "Or Did Mrs. Bell Tell
You My Name? By The Way, You Have Not Been Here Long, Have You?"
"I Took My Room Day Before
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