Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (rom com books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
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When Lord Emsworth Said, "Let Me Go First," Young Algernon
Chapter 8 Pg 141Wooster, Who Was On The Very Point Of Leaping To The Fore, Said,
"Yes, By Jove! Sound Scheme, By Gad!"--And Withdrew Into The
Background; And The Bishop Of Godalming Said: "By All Means,
Clarence Undoubtedly; Most Certainly Precede Us."
When His Sense Of Touch Told Him He Had Reached The Foot Of The
Stairs, Lord Emsworth Paused. The Hall Was Very Dark And The
Burglars Seemed Temporarily To Have Suspended Activities. And
Then One Of Them, A Man With A Ruffianly, Grating Voice, Spoke.
What It Was He Said Lord Emsworth Could Not Understand. It
Sounded Like "Heh! Mer!"--Probably Some Secret Signal To His
Confederates. Lord Emsworth Raised His Revolver And Emptied It In
The Direction Of The Sound.
Extremely Fortunately For Him, The Efficient Baxter Had Not
Changed His All-Fours Attitude. This Undoubtedly Saved Lord
Emsworth The Worry Of Engaging A New Secretary. The Shots Sang
Above Baxter's Head One After The Other, Six In All, And Found
Other Billets Than His Person. They Disposed Themselves As
Follows: The First Shot Broke A Window And Whistled Out Into The
Night; The Second Shot Hit The Dinner Gong And Made A Perfectly
Extraordinary Noise, Like The Last Trump; The Third, Fourth And
Fifth Shots Embedded Themselves In The Wall; The Sixth And Final
Shot Hit A Life-Size Picture Of His Lordship's Grandmother In The
Face And Improved It Out Of All Knowledge.
One Thinks No Worse Of Lord Emsworth's Grandmother Because She
Looked Like Eddie Foy, And Had Allowed Herself To Be Painted,
After The Heavy Classic Manner Of Some Of The Portraits Of A
Hundred Years Ago, In The Character Of Venus--Suitably Draped, Of
Course, Rising From The Sea; But It Was Beyond The Possibility Of
Denial That Her Grandson's Bullet Permanently Removed One Of
Blandings Castle's Most Prominent Eyesores.
Having Emptied His Revolver, Lord Emsworth Said, "Who Is There?
Speak!" In Rather An Aggrieved Tone, As Though He Felt He Had
Done His Part In Breaking The Ice, And It Was Now For The
Intruder To Exert Himself And Bear His Share Of The Social
Amenities.
The Efficient Baxter Did Not Reply. Nothing In The World Could
Have Induced Him To Speak At That Moment, Or To Make Any Sound
Whatsoever That Might Betray His Position To A Dangerous Maniac
Who Might At Any Instant Reload His Pistol And Resume The
Fusillade. Explanations, In His Opinion, Could Be Deferred Until
Somebody Had The Presence Of Mind To Switch On The Lights. He
Flattened Himself On The Carpet And Hoped For Better Things. His
Cheek Touched The Corpse Beside Him; But Though He Winced And
Shuddered He Made No Outcry. After Those Six Shots He Was Through
With Outcries.
A Voice From Above, The Bishop's Voice, Said: "I Think You Have
Killed Him, Clarence."
Chapter 8 Pg 142
Another Voice, That Of Colonel Horace Mant, Said: "Switch On
Those Dashed Lights! Why Doesn't Somebody? Dash It!"
The Whole Strength Of The Company Began To Demand Light.
When The Lights Came, It Was From The Other Side Of The Hall.
Six Revolver Shots, Fired At Quarter Past Two In The Morning,
Will Rouse Even Sleeping Domestics. The Servants' Quarters Were
Buzzing Like A Hive. Shrill Feminine Screams Were Puncturing The
Air. Mr. Beach, The Butler, In A Suit Of Pink Silk Pajamas, Of
Which No One Would Have Suspected Him, Was Leading A Party Of Men
Servants Down The Stairs--Not So Much Because He Wanted To Lead
Them As Because They Pushed Him.
The Passage Beyond The Green-Baize Door Became Congested, And
There Were Cries For Mr. Beach To Open It And Look Through And
See What Was The Matter; But Mr. Beach Was Smarter Than That And
Wriggled Back So That He No Longer Headed The Procession. This
Done, He Shouted:
"Open That Door There! Open That Door! Look And See What The
Matter Is."
Ashe Opened The Door. Since His Escape From The Hall He Had Been
Lurking In The Neighborhood Of The Green-Baize Door And Had Been
Engulfed By The Swirling Throng. Finding Himself With Elbowroom
For The First Time, He Pushed Through, Swung The Door Open And
Switched On The Lights.
They Shone On A Collection Of Semi-Dressed Figures, Crowding The
Staircase; On A Hall Littered With China And Glass; On A Dented
Dinner Gong; On An Edited And Improved Portrait Of The Late
Countess Of Emsworth; And On The Efficient Baxter, In An Overcoat
And Rubber-Soled Shoes, Lying Beside A Cold Tongue. At No Great
Distance Lay A Number Of Other Objects--A Knife, A Fork, Some
Bread, Salt, A Corkscrew And A Bottle Of White Wine.
Using The Word In The Sense Of Saying Something Coherent, The
Earl Of Emsworth Was The First To Speak. He Peered Down At His
Recumbent Secretary And Said:
"Baxter! My Dear Fellow--What The Devil?"
The Feeling Of The Company Was One Of Profound Disappointment.
They Were Disgusted At The Anticlimax. For An Instant, When The
Efficient One Did Not Move, A Hope Began To Stir; But As Soon As
It Was Seen That He Was Not Even Injured, Gloom Reigned. One Of
Two Things Would Have Satisfied Them--Either A Burglar Or A
Corpse. A Burglar Would Have Been Welcome, Dead Or Alive; But, If
Baxter Proposed To Fill The Part Adequately It Was Imperative
That He Be Dead. He Had Disappointed Them Deeply By Turning Out
To Be The Object Of Their Quest. That He Should Not Have Been
Even Grazed Was Too Much.
Chapter 8 Pg 143
There Was A Cold Silence As He Slowly Raised Himself From The
Floor. As His Eyes Fell On The Tongue, He Started And Remained
Gazing Fixedly At It. Surprise Paralyzed Him.
Lord Emsworth Was Also Looking At The Tongue And He Leaped To A
Not Unreasonable Conclusion. He Spoke Coldly And Haughtily; For
He Was Not Only Annoyed, Like The Others, At The Anticlimax, But
Offended. He Knew That He Was Not One Of Your Energetic Hosts Who
Exert Themselves Unceasingly To Supply Their Guests With
Entertainment; But There Was One Thing On Which, As A Host, He
Did Pride Himself--In The Material Matters Of Life He Did His
Guests Well; He Kept An Admirable Table.
"My Dear Baxter," He Said In The Tones He Usually Reserved For
The Correction Of His Son Freddie, "If Your Hunger Is So Great
That You Are Unable To Wait For Breakfast And Have To Raid My
Larder In The Middle Of The Night, I Wish To Goodness You Would
Contrive To Make Less Noise About It. I Do Not Grudge You The
Food--Help Yourself When You Please--But Do Remember That People
Who Have Not Such Keen Appetites As Yourself Like To Sleep During
The Night. A Far Better Plan, My Dear Fellow, Would Be To Have
Sandwiches Or Buns--Or Whatever You Consider Most Sustaining--
Sent Up To Your Bedroom."
Not Even The Bullets Had Disordered Baxter's Faculties So Much As
This Monstrous Accusation. Explanations Pushed And Jostled One
Another In His Fermenting Brain, But He Could Not Utter Them. On
Every Side He Met Gravely Reproachful Eyes. George Emerson Was
Looking At Him In Pained Disgust. Ashe Marson's Face Was The Face
Of One Who Could Never Have Believed This Had He Not Seen It With
His Own Eyes. The Scrutiny Of The Knife-And-Shoe Boy Was
Unendurable.
He Stammered. Words Began To Proceed From Him, Tripping And
Stumbling Over Each Other. Lord Emsworth's Frigid Disapproval Did
Not Relax.
"Pray Do Not Apologize, Baxter. The Desire For Food Is Human. It
Is Your Boisterous Mode Of Securing And Conveying It That I
Deprecate. Let Us All Go To Bed."
"But, Lord Emsworth-----"
"To Bed!" Repeated His Lordship Firmly.
The Company Began To Stream Moodily Upstairs. The Lights Were
Switched Off. The Efficient Baxter Dragged Himself Away. From The
Darkness In The Direction Of The Servants' Door A Voice Spoke.
"Greedy Pig!" Said The Voice Scornfully.
It Sounded Like The Fresh Young Voice Of The Knife-And-Shoe Boy,
But Baxter Was Too Broken To Investigate. He Continued His
Retreat Without Pausing.
Chapter 8 Pg 144
"Stuffin' Of 'Isself At All Hours!" Said The Voice.
There Was A Murmur Of Approval From The Unseen Throng Of
Domestics.
Chapter 9 Pg 145
As We Grow Older And Realize More Clearly The Limitations Of
Human Happiness, We Come To See That The Only Real And Abiding
Pleasure In Life Is To Give Pleasure To Other People. One Must
Assume That The Efficient Baxter Had Not Reached The Age When
This Comes Home To A Man, For The Fact That He Had Given Genuine
Pleasure To Some Dozens Of His Fellow-Men Brought Him No Balm.
There Was No Doubt About The Pleasure He Had Given. Once They Had
Got Over Their Disappointment At Finding That He Was Not A Dead
Burglar, The House Party Rejoiced Whole-Heartedly At The Break In
The Monotony Of Life At Blandings Castle. Relations Who Had Not
Been On Speaking Terms For Years Forgot Their Quarrels And
Strolled About The Grounds In Perfect Harmony, Abusing Baxter.
The General Verdict Was
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