Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (rom com books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
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Of, But Which Only He Could Dispose Of--The Scarab."
The Honorable Freddie Was Beyond Speech. He Made No Comment On
This Statement. Ashe Continued:
"I Interviewed This Man Jones. I Said To Him: 'I Am In The
Honorable Frederick Threepwood's Confidence. I Know Everything.
Have You Any Instructions For Me?' He Replied: 'What Do You
Know?' I Answered: 'I Know That The Honorable Frederick
Threepwood Has Something He Wishes To Hand To You, But Which He
Has Been Unable To Hand To You Owing To Having Had An Accident
And Being Confined To His Room.' He Then Told Me To Tell You To
Let Him Have The Scarab By Messenger."
Freddie Pulled Himself Together With An Effort. He Was In Sore
Straits, But He Saw One Last Chance. His Researches In Detective
Fiction Had Given Him The Knowledge That Detectives Occasionally
Relaxed Their Austerity When Dealing With A Deserving Case. Even
Gridley Quayle Could Sometimes Be Softened By A Hard-Luck Story.
Freddie Could Recall Half A Dozen Times When A Detected Criminal
Had Been Spared By Him Because He Had Done It All From The Best
Motives. He Determined To Throw Himself On Ashe's Mercy.
"I Say, You Know," He Said Ingratiatingly, "I Think It's Bally
Marvelous The Way You've Deduced Everything, And So On."
"Well?"
"But I Believe You Would Chuck It If You Heard My Side Of The
Case."
"I Know Your Side Of The Case. You Think You Are Being
Blackmailed By A Miss Valentine For Some Letters You Once Wrote
Her. You Are Not. Miss Valentine Has Destroyed The Letters. She
Chapter 11 Pg 184Told The Man Jones So When He Went To See Her In London. He Kept
Your Five Hundred Pounds And Is Trying To Get Another Thousand
Out Of You Under False Pretenses."
"What? You Can't Be Right."
"I Am Always Right."
"You Must Be Mistaken."
"I Am Never Mistaken."
"But How Do You Know?"
"I Have My Sources Of Information."
"She Isn't Going To Sue Me For Breach Of Promise?"
"She Never Had Any Intention Of Doing So."
The Honorable Freddie Sank Back On The Pillows.
"Good Egg!" He Said With Fervor. He Beamed Happily. "This," He
Observed, "Is A Bit Of All Right."
For A Space Relief Held Him Dumb. Then Another Aspect Of The
Matter Struck Him, And He Sat Up Again With A Jerk.
"I Say, You Don't Mean To Say That That Rotter Jones Was Such A
Rotter As To Do A Rotten Thing Like That?"
"I Do."
Freddie Grew Plaintive.
"I Trusted That Man," He Said. "I Jolly Well Trusted Him
Absolutely."
"I Know," Said Ashe. "There Is One Born Every Minute."
"But"--The Thing Seemed To Be Filtering Slowly Into Freddie's
Intelligence "What I Mean To Say Is, I--I--Thought He Was Such A
Good Chap."
"My Short Acquaintance With Mr. Jones," Said Ashe "Leads Me To
Think That He Probably Is--To Himself."
"I Won't Have Anything More To Do With Him."
"I Shouldn't."
"Dash It, I'll Tell You What I'll Do. The Very Next Time I Meet
The Blighter, I'll Cut Him Dead. I Will! The Rotter! Five Hundred
Quid He's Had Off Me For Nothing! And, If It Hadn't Been For You,
Chapter 11 Pg 185He'd Have Had Another Thousand! I'm Beginning To Think That My
Old Governor Wasn't So Far Wrong When He Used To Curse Me For
Going Around With Jones And The Rest Of That Crowd. He Knew A
Bit, By Gad! Well, I'm Through With Them. If The Governor Ever
Lets Me Go To London Again, I Won't Have Anything To Do With
Them. I'll Jolly Well Cut The Whole Bunch! And To Think That, If
It Hadn't Been For You . . ."
"Never Mind That," Said Ashe. "Give Me The Scarab. Where Is It?"
"What Are You Going To Do With It?"
"Restore It To Its Rightful Owner."
"Are You Going To Give Me Away To The Governor?"
"I Am Not."
"It Strikes Me," Said Freddie Gratefully, "That You Are A Dashed
Good Sort. You Seem To Me To Have The Making Of An Absolute
Topper! It's Under The Mattress. I Had It On Me When I Fell
Downstairs And I Had To Shove It In There."
Ashe Drew It Out. He Stood Looking At It, Absorbed. He Could
Hardly Believe His Quest Was At An End And That A Small Fortune
Lay In The Palm Of His Hand. Freddie Was Eyeing Him Admiringly.
"You Know," He Said, "I've Always Wanted To Meet A Detective.
What Beats Me Is How You Chappies Find Out Things."
"We Have Our Methods."
"I Believe You. You're A Blooming Marvel! What First Put You On
My Track?"
"That," Said Ashe, "Would Take Too Long To Explain. Of Course I
Had To Do Some Tense Inductive Reasoning; But I Cannot Trace
Every Link In The Chain For You. It Would Be Tedious."
"Not To Me."
"Some Other Time."
"I Say, I Wonder Whether You've Ever Read Any Of These
Things--These Gridley Quayle Stories? I Know Them By Heart."
With The Scarab Safely In His Pocket, Ashe Could Contemplate The
Brightly-Colored Volume The Other Extended Toward Him Without
Active Repulsion. Already He Was Beginning To Feel A Sort Of
Sentiment For The Depressing Quayle, As Something That Had Once
Formed Part Of His Life.
"Do You Read These Things?"
Chapter 11 Pg 186
"I Should Say Not. I Write Them."
There Are Certain Supreme Moments That Cannot Be Adequately
Described. Freddie's Appreciation Of The Fact That Such A Moment
Had Occurred In His Life Expressed Itself In A Startled Cry And A
Convulsive Movement Of All His Limbs. He Shot Up From The Pillows
And Gaped At Ashe.
"You Write Them? You Don't Mean, Write Them!"
"Yes."
"Great Scott!"
He Would Have Gone On, Doubtless, To Say More; But At This Moment
Voices Made Themselves Heard Outside The Door. There Was A
Movement Of Feet. Then The Door Opened And A Small Procession
Entered.
It Was Headed By The Earl Of Emsworth. Following Him Came Mr.
Peters. And In The Wake Of The Millionaire Were Colonel Horace
Mant And The Efficient Baxter. They Filed Into The Room And Stood
By The Bedside. Ashe Seized The Opportunity To Slip Out.
Freddie Glanced At The Deputation Without Interest. His Mind Was
Occupied With Other Matters. He Supposed They Had Come To Inquire
After His Ankle And He Was Mildly Thankful That They Had Come In
A Body Instead Of One By One. The Deputation Grouped Itself About
The Bed And Shuffled Its Feet. There Was An Atmosphere Of
Awkwardness.
"Er--Frederick!" Said Lord Emsworth. "Freddie, My Boy!"
Mr. Peters Fiddled Dumbly With The Coverlet. Colonel Mant Cleared
His Throat. The Efficient Baxter Scowled. "Er--Freddie, My Dear
Boy, I Fear We Have A Painful--Er--Task To Perform."
The Words Struck Straight Home At The Honorable Freddie's Guilty
Conscience. Had They, Too, Tracked Him Down? And Was He Now To Be
Accused Of Having Stolen That Infernal Scarab? A Wave Of Relief
Swept Over Him As He Realized That He Had Got Rid Of The Thing. A
Decent Chappie Like That Detective Would Not Give Him Away. All
He Had To Do Was To Keep His Head And Stick To Stout Denial. That
Was The Game--Stout Denial.
"I Don't Know What You Mean," He Said Defensively.
"Of Course You Don't--Dash It!" Said Colonel Mant. "We're Coming
To That. And I Should Like To Begin By Saying That, Though In A
Sense It Was My Fault, I Fail To See How I Could Have Acted---"
"Horace!"
"Oh, Very Well! I Was Only Trying To Explain."
Chapter 11 Pg 187Lord Emsworth Adjusted His Pince-Nez And Sought Inspiration From
The Wall Paper.
"Freddie, My Boy," He Began, "We Have A Somewhat Unpleasant--A
Somewhat Er--Disturbing--We Are Compelled To Break It To You. We
Are All Most Pained And Astounded; And--"
The Efficient Baxter Spoke. It Was Plain He Was In A Bad Temper.
"Miss Peters," He Snapped, "Has Eloped With Your Friend Emerson."
Lord Emsworth Breathed A Sigh Of Relief.
"Exactly, Baxter. Precisely! You Have Put The Thing In A
Nutshell. Really, My Dear Fellow, You Are Invaluable."
All Eyes Searched Freddie's Face For Signs Of Uncontrollable
Emotion. The Deputation Waited Anxiously For His First
Grief-Stricken Cry.
"Eh? What?" Said Freddie.
"It Is Quite True, Freddie, My Dear Boy. She Went To London With
Him On The Ten-Fifty."
"And If I Had Not Been Forcibly Restrained," Said Baxter Acidly,
Casting A Vindictive Look At Colonel Mant, "I Could Have
Prevented It."
Colonel Mant Cleared His Throat Again And Put A Hand To His
Mustache.
"I'm Afraid That Is True, Freddie. It Was A Most Unfortunate
Misunderstanding. I'll Tell You How It Happened: I Chanced To Be
At The Station Bookstall When The Train Came In. Mr. Baxter Was
Also In The Station. The Train Pulled Up And This Young Fellow
Emerson Got In--Said Good-By To Us, Don't You Know, And Got In.
Just As The Train Was About To Start, Miss Peters Exclaiming,
'George Dear, I'm Going With You---, Dash It,' Or Some Such
Speech--Proceeded To Go--Hell For Leather--To The Door Of Young
Emerson's Compartment. On Which---"
"On Which," Interrupted Baxter, "I Made A Spring To Try And Catch
Her. Apart From Any Other Consideration, The Train Was Already
Moving And Miss Peters Ran Considerable Risk Of Injury. I Had
Hardly Moved When I Felt A Violent Jerk At My Ankle And Fell To
The Ground. After I Had Recovered From The Shock, Which Was Not
Immediately, I Found--"
"The Fact Is, Freddie, My Boy," The Colonel Went On, "I Acted
Under A Misapprehension. Nobody Can Be Sorrier For The Mistake
Than I; But Recent Events In This House Had Left Me With The
Impression That Mr. Baxter Here Was Not Quite Responsible For His
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