Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (rom com books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
Book online «Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (rom com books to read .TXT) 📖». Author Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
"Don't Tell Me That Young Fellow's All There," Said Colonel
Horace Mant; "Because I Know Better. Have You Noticed His Eye?
Furtive! Shifty! Nasty Gleam In It. Besides--Dash It!--Did You
Happen To Take A Look At The Hall Last Night After He Had Been
There? It Was In Ruins, My Dear Sir--Absolute Dashed Ruins. It
Was Positively Littered With Broken China And Tables That Had
Been Bowled Over. Don't Tell Me That Was Just An Accidental
Collision In The Dark.
"My Dear Sir, The Man Must Have Been Thrashing About--Absolutely
Thrashing About, Like A Dashed Salmon On A Dashed Hook. He Must
Have Had A Paroxysm Of Some Kind--Some Kind Of A Dashed Fit. A
Doctor Could Give You The Name For It. It's A Well-Known Form Of
Insanity. Paranoia--Isn't That What They Call It? Rush Of Blood
To The Head, Followed By A General Running Amuck.
"I've Heard Fellows Who Have Been In India Talk Of It. Natives
Get It. Don't Know What They're Doing, And Charge Through The
Streets Taking Cracks At People With Dashed Whacking Great
Knives. Same With This Young Man, Probably In A Modified Form At
Present. He Ought To Be In A Home. One Of These Nights, If This
Grows On Him, He Will Be Massacring Emsworth In His Bed."
"My Dear Horace!" The Bishop Of Godalming's Voice Was Properly
Horror-Stricken; But There Was A Certain Unctuous Relish In It.
Chapter 9 Pg 146
"Take My Word For It! Though, Mind You, I Don't Say They Aren't
Well Suited. Everyone Knows That Emsworth Has Been, To All
Practical Intents And Purposes, A Dashed Lunatic For Years. What
Was It That Young Fellow Emerson, Freddie's American Friend, Was
Saying, The Other Day About Some Acquaintance Of His Who Is Not
Quite Right In The Head? Nobody In The House--Is That It?
Something To That Effect, At Any Rate. I Felt At The Time It Was
A Perfect Description Of Emsworth."
"My Dear Horace! Your Father-In-Law! The Head Of The Family!"
"A Dashed Lunatic, My Dear Sir--Head Of The Family Or No Head Of
The Family. A Man As Absent-Minded As He Is Has No Right To Call
Himself Sane. Nobody In The House--I Recollect It Now--Nobody In
The House Except Gas, And That Has Not Been Turned On. That's
Emsworth!"
The Efficient Baxter, Who Had Just Left His Presence, Was Feeling
Much The Same About His Noble Employer. After A Sleepless Night
He Had Begun At An Early Hour To Try And Corner Lord Emsworth In
Order To Explain To Him The True Inwardness Of Last Night's
Happenings. Eventually He Had Tracked Him To The Museum, Where He
Found Him Happily Engaged In Painting A Cabinet Of Birds' Eggs.
He Was Seated On A Small Stool, A Large Pot Of Red Paint On The
Floor Beside Him, Dabbing At The Cabinet With A Dripping Brush.
He Was Absorbed And Made No Attempt Whatever To Follow His
Secretary's Remarks.
For Ten Minutes Baxter Gave A Vivid Picture Of His Vigil And The
Manner In Which It Had Been Interrupted.
"Just So; Just So, My Dear Fellow," Said The Earl When He Had
Finished. "I Quite Understand. All I Say Is, If You Do Require
Additional Food In The Night Let One Of The Servants Bring It To
Your Room Before Bedtime; Then There Will Be No Danger Of These
Disturbances. There Is No Possible Objection To Your Eating A
Hundred Meals A Day, My Good Baxter, Provided You Do Not Rouse
The Whole House Over Them. Some Of Us Like To Sleep During The
Night."
"But, Lord Emsworth! I Have Just Explained--It Was Not--I Was
Not--"
"Never Mind, My Dear Fellow; Never Mind. Why Make Such An
Important Thing Of It? Many People Like A Light Snack Before
Actually Retiring. Doctors, I Believe, Sometimes Recommend It.
Tell Me, Baxter, How Do You Think The Museum Looks Now? A Little
Brighter? Better For The Dash Of Color? I Think So. Museums Are
Generally Such Gloomy Places."
"Lord Emsworth, May I Explain Once Again?"
The Earl Looked Annoyed.
Chapter 9 Pg 147
"My Dear Baxter, I Have Told You That There Is Nothing To
Explain. You Are Getting A Little Tedious. What A Deep, Rich Red
This Is, And How Clean New Paint Smells! Do You Know, Baxter, I
Have Been Longing To Mess About With Paint Ever Since I Was A
Boy! I Recollect My Old Father Beating Me With A Walking Stick.
. . . That Would Be Before Your Time, Of Course. By The Way, If
You See Freddie, Will You Tell Him I Want To Speak To Him? He
Probably Is In The Smoking-Room. Send Him To Me Here."
It Was An Overwrought Baxter Who Delivered The Message To The
Honorable Freddie, Who, As Predicted, Was In The Smoking-Room,
Lounging In A Deep Armchair.
There Are Times When Life Presses Hard On A Man, And It Pressed
Hard On Baxter Now. Fate Had Played Him A Sorry Trick. It Had Put
Him In A Position Where He Had To Choose Between Two Courses,
Each As Disagreeable As The Other. He Must Either Face A Possible
Second Fiasco Like That Of Last Night, Or Else He Must Abandon
His Post And Cease To Mount Guard Over His Threatened Treasure.
His Imagination Quailed At The Thought Of A Repetition Of Last
Night's Horrors. He Had Been Badly Shaken By His Collision With
The Table And Even More So By The Events That Had Followed It.
Those Revolver Shots Still Rang In His Ears.
It Was Probably The Memory Of Those Shots That Turned The Scale.
It Was Unlikely He Would Again Become Entangled With A Man
Bearing A Tongue And The Other Things--He Had Given Up In Despair
The Attempt To Unravel The Mystery Of The Tongue; It Completely
Baffled Him--But It Was By No Means Unlikely That If He Spent
Another Night In The Gallery Looking On The Hall He Might Not
Again Become A Target For Lord Emsworth's Irresponsible Firearm.
Nothing, In Fact, Was More Likely; For In The Disturbed State Of
The Public Mind The Slightest Sound After Nightfall Would Be
Sufficient Cause For A Fusillade.
He Had Actually Overheard Young Algernon Wooster Telling Lord
Stockheath He Had A Jolly Good Mind To Sit On The Stairs That
Night With A Shotgun, Because It Was His Opinion That There Was A
Jolly Sight More In This Business Than There Seemed To Be; And
What He Thought Of The Bally Affair Was That There Was A Gang Of
Some Kind At Work, And That That Feller--What's-His-Name?--That
Feller Baxter Was Some Sort Of An Accomplice.
With These Things In His Mind Baxter Decided To Remain That Night
In The Security Of His Bedroom. He Had Lost His Nerve. He Formed
This Decision With The Utmost Reluctance, For The Thought Of
Leaving The Road To The Museum Clear For Marauders Was Bitter In
The Extreme. If He Could Have Overheard A Conversation Between
Joan Valentine And Ashe Marson It Is Probable He Would Have
Risked Lord Emsworth's Revolver And The Shotgun Of The Honorable
Algernon Wooster.
Ashe, When He Met Joan And Recounted The Events Of The Night, At
Chapter 9 Pg 148Which Joan, Who Was A Sound Sleeper, Had Not Been Present, Was
Inclined To Blame Himself As A Failure. True, Fate Had Been
Against Him, But The Fact Remained That He Had Achieved Nothing.
Joan, However, Was Not Of This Opinion.
"You Have Done Wonders," She Said. "You Have Cleared The Way For
Me. That Is My Idea Of Real Teamwork. I'm So Glad Now That We
Formed Our Partnership. It Would Have Been Too Bad If I Had Got
All The Advantage Of Your Work And Had Jumped In And Deprived You
Of The Reward. As It Is, I Shall Go Down And Finish The Thing Off
To-Night With A Clear Conscience."
"You Can't Mean That You Dream Of Going Down To The Museum
To-Night!"
"Of Course I Do."
"But It's Madness!"
"On The Contrary, To-Night Is The One Night When There Ought To
Be No Risk At All."
"After What Happened Last Night?"
"Because Of What Happened Last Night. Do You Imagine Mr. Baxter
Will Dare To Stir From His Bed After That? If Ever There Was A
Chance Of Getting This Thing Finished, It Will Be To-Night."
"You're Quite Right. I Never Looked At It In That Way. Baxter
Wouldn't Risk A Second Disaster. I'll Certainly Make A Success Of
It This Time."
Joan Raised Her Eyebrows.
"I Don't Quite Understand You, Mr. Marson. Do You Propose To Try
To Get The Scarab To-Night?"
"Yes. It Will Be As Easy As--"
"Are You Forgetting That, By The Terms Of Our Agreement, It Is My
Turn?"
"You Surely Don't Intend To Hold Me To That?"
"Certainly I Do."
"But, Good Heavens, Consider My Position! Do You Seriously Expect
Me To Lie In Bed While You Do All The Work, And Then To Take A
Half Share In The Reward?"
"I Do."
"It's Ridiculous!"
Chapter 9 Pg 149
"It's No More Ridiculous Than That I Should Do The Same. Mr.
Marson, There's No Use In Our Going Over All This Again. We
Settled It Long Ago."
Joan Refused To Discuss The Matter Further, Leaving Ashe In A
Condition Of Anxious Misery Comparable Only To That Which, As
Night Began To Draw Near, Gnawed The Vitals Of The Efficient
Baxter.
* * *
Breakfast At Blandings Castle Was An Informal Meal. There Was
Food And Drink In The Long Dining-Hall For Such As Were Energetic
Enough To Come Down And Get It; But The Majority Of The House
Party Breakfasted In Their Rooms, Lord Emsworth, Whom Nothing In
The World Would Have Induced To Begin The Day In The Company Of A
Crowd Of His Relations, Most Of Whom He Disliked, Setting Them
The Example.
When, Therefore, Baxter, Yielding To Nature After Having Remained
Awake Until The Early
Comments (0)