October 8, 2025 • 42 mins
03 - Part 3. The Intrusion of Jimmy by P.G. Wodehouse.
The action begins with playboy bachelor Jimmy Pitt in New York; having fallen in love on a transatlantic liner, he befriends a small-time burglar and breaks into a police captain's house as a result of a bet. The cast of characters head to England, and from there on it is a typically Wodehousian romantic farce, set at the stately Dreever Castle, overflowing with imposters, detectives, crooks, scheming lovers and conniving aunts.
The action begins with playboy bachelor Jimmy Pitt in New York; having fallen in love on a transatlantic liner, he befriends a small-time burglar and breaks into a police captain's house as a result of a bet. The cast of characters head to England, and from there on it is a typically Wodehousian romantic farce, set at the stately Dreever Castle, overflowing with imposters, detectives, crooks, scheming lovers and conniving aunts.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Part three of the Intrusion of Jimmy by P. G. Woodhouse.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Intrusion
of Jimmy, Chapter seven, Getting Acquainted. A cyclone entering a
room is apt to alter the position of things. This
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cyclone shifted a footstool, a small chair, a rug, and spike.
The chair, struck by a massive boot, whirled against the wall.
The footstool rolled away, the rug crumpled up and slid.
Spike with a yell, leaped to his feet, slipped again, fell,
and finally compromised on an all fours position, in which
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attitude he remained blinking. While these stirring acts were in progress,
there was the sound of a door opening up stairs,
followed by a scuttering of feet and an appalling increase
in the canine contribution to the current noises. The duet
had now taken on quite a Wagnerian effect. There raced
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into the room, first a white bull terrier, he of
the soprano voice, and a bad second his fellow artiste,
the baritone, a massive bulldog bearing a striking resemblance to
the big man with the big lower jaw whose entrance
had started the cyclone, and then, in theatrical parlance, the
entire company held the picture up stage. With his hands
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still on the door, stood the men with the jaw
down stage, Jimmy center, Spike and the bulldog, their noses
a couple of inches apart, inspected each other with mutual disfavor.
On the extreme o P side, the bull terrier, who
had fallen foul of a wicker work table, was crouching
with extended tongue and rolling eyes, waiting for the next move.
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The householder looked at Jimmy. Jimmy looked at the householder.
Spike and the bulldog looked at each other. The bull
terrier distributed his gaze impartially a round the company. A
typical scene of quiet American home life, murmured Jimmy. The
householder glowered, Hands up, you devils, he roared, pointing a
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mammoth revolver. The two marauders humored his whim. Let me explain,
said Jimmy, pacifically, shuffling warily around in order to face
the bull terrier, who was now strolling in his direction
with an iel assumed carelessness. Cape still, you blaggered, Jimmy
kept still. The bull terrier with the same abstracted air,
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was beginning a casual inspection of his right trouser leg.
Relations between Spike and the bulldog, meanwhile, had become more strained.
The sudden flinging up of the former's arms had had
the worst effects on the animal's nerves. Spike the croucher
on all fours he might have tolerated, but Spike the
semaphore inspired him with thoughts of battle. He was growling
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in a moody, reflective manner. His eye was full of purpose.
It was probably this that caused Spike to look at
the householder. Till then he had been too busy to
shift his gaze. But now the bulldog's eye had become
so unpleasing that he cast a pathetic glance up at
the man by the door. Gee, he cried, it's the boss,
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Say Boss, call off the dog. It's sure going to
nip the hull head off on me. The other lowered
the revolver in surprise. So it's you, you limb of Satan,
he remarked, I thought I had seen that damned red
head of yours before. What are you doing in my house?
Spike uttered a howl in which indignation and self pity
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were nicely blended. I'll lay for that swede, he cried,
I'll soak it to him. Good, Boss, I've had a
raw deal on the level I has. There's a feller
I know, a fat swede, old larson. His moniker is
and this fetterin me started a scrapping last week and
I puts it all over him, so head it in
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for me. But he comes up to me like as
if he's meanin to be good, and he says he's
got a soft proposition for me if I'll give him half.
So I says, all right, where is it? And he
gives me the number of this house and says this
is where a widow lady lives all alone and has
got silver mugs and things to boin, and that she's
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a way down south, so there ain't nobody in the house. Gee,
I'll soak it to that swede. It was a raw deal, boss.
He was just hoping to put me in bed with you.
That's how it was, boss, Honest. The Big Man listened
to this sad story of Grecian gifts in silence. Not
so the bulldog, which growled from start to finish. Spike
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eyed it uneasily. Won't you call off the dog, boss,
he said. The other stooped and grasped the animal's co
jerking him away. The same treatment, suggested Jimmy, with approval,
would also do a world of good to this playful
and affectionate animal, unless he is a vegetarian, in which case,
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don't bother. The big man glowered at him. Who are you,
he demanded? My name began Jimmy is, say, said Spike.
He's a champion burglar. Boss. The householder shut the door. Eh,
he said, he's a champion burglar. From the other side,
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he sure is from London. Gee, he's the guy. Tell
him about the bake you opened and the jewels you
swipe from the duchess, and that's what you call it, blowpipe.
It seemed to Jimmy that Spike was showing a certain
want of tact. When you are discovered by a householder
with revolver in his parter at half past three in
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the morning, it is surely an injudicious move to lay
stress on your proficiency as a burglar. The householder may
be supposed to take that for granted. The side of
your character that should be advertised in such a crisis
is the non burglarious allusion should be made to the
fact that as a child you attended Sunday school regularly,
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and to what the minister said when you took the
Divinity Prize. The idea should be conveyed to the householder's
mind that if led off with a caution, your innate
goodness of heart will lead you to reform and to
avoid such scenes in the future. With some astonishment, therefore,
Jimmy found that these revelations, so far from prejudicing, the
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man with the revolver against him, had apparently told in
his favor. The man behind the gun was regarding him
rather with interest than disapproval. So you're a crook from London,
are you? Jimmy did not hesitate. If being a crook
from London was a passport into citizen's parlors in the
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small hours, and more particularly if it carried with it
also a safe conduct out of them. Jimmy was not
the man to refuse the role. He bowed, Well, you'll
have to come across now you're in New York, understand that,
and come across good, sure he will, said Spike, charmed
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that the tension had been relieved and matters placed upon
a pleasant and business like footing. He'll be good. He's
next to the game. Sure, sure, echoed Jimmy courteously. He
did not understand, but things seemed to be taking a
turn for the better, So why disturb the harmony? This gent,
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said Spike respectfully, is boss of the cops, a police captain,
he corrected himself. A light broke upon Jimmy's darkness. He wondered.
He had not understood before. He had not been a
newspaper man in New York for a year without finding
out something of the inner workings of the police force.
He saw now why the other's manner had ed please
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to meet you, he said, must have a talk together
one of these days. We must, said the police captain significantly.
He was rich, richer than he had ever hoped to be,
but he was still on Tom Tidler's ground and meant
to make the most of it. Of course, I don't
know your methods on this side, but anything that's usual,
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I'll see you at my office, Spike Mullins will show
you where it is. Very well, you must forgive this
preliminary informal call. We came in more to shelter from
the rain than anything you did, did you. Jimmy felt
that it behooved him to stand on his dignity. The
situation demanded it. Why, he said, with some hauteur, in
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the ordinary course of business, I should hardly waste time
over a small crib like it's banks. For his murmured
Spike rapturously, he each dem alive and jewels from duchesses.
I admit a partiality for jewels and duchesses, said Jimmy.
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And now, as it's a little late, perhaps we had
better ready. Spike, good night, then please to have met you.
I'll see you at my office. I may possibly look in.
I shall be doing very little work in New York.
I fancy I am here merely on vacation. If you
do any work at all, said the policeman coldly. You'll
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look in at my office or you'll wish you had
when it's too late. Of course, of course, I shouldn't
dream of omitting any formality that may be usual. But
I don't fancy I shall break my vacation. By the way,
one little thing, have you any objections to my carving
a jay on your front door? The policeman stared on
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the inside. It won't show. It's just a whim of mine.
If you have no objection, I don't want any of
your began the policeman. You misunderstand me. It's only that
it means paying for a dinner. I wouldn't for the world.
The policeman pointed to the window out Yah get, he
said abruptly, I've had enough of you, and don't you
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forget to come to my office. Spike, still deeply mistrustful
of the bulldog Rastus, jumped at the invitation. He was
through the window and out of sight in the friendly darkness.
Almost before the policeman had finished speaking. Jimmy remained, I
shall be delighted he had begun. Then he stopped. In
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the doorway was standing a girl, a girl whom he recognized.
Her startled look told him that she too had recognized him,
not for the first time since he had set out
from his flat that night in Spike's company. Jimmy was
conscious of a sense of the unreality of things. It
was all so exactly as it would have happened in
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a dream. He had gone to sleep thinking of this girl,
and here she was. But a glance at the man
with the revolver brought him back to earth. There was
nothing of the dream world about the police captain. That
gentleman whose back was toward the door, had not observed
the addition to the company. Mollie had turned the handle quietly,
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and her slippered feet made no sound. It was the
amazed expression on Jimmy's face that caused the captain to
look toward the door. Mollie, the girl smiled, though her
face was white. Jimmy's evening clothes had reassured her. She
did not understand how he came to be there, but
evidently there was nothing wrong. She had interrupted a conversation,
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not a conflict. I heard the noise and you going downstairs,
and I sent the dogs down to help you, father,
she said, and then after a little I came down
to see if you were all right. Mister mc keechorn
was perplexed. Molly's arrival had put him in an awkward position.
To denounce the visitor as a cracksman was now impossible,
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for he knew too much. The only real fear of
the policeman's life was lest some word of his money
making methods might come to his daughter's ears. Quite a
brilliant idea came to him. A man broke in, my dear,
he said. This gentleman was passing and saw him distinctly,
said Jimmy, an ugly looking customer. But he slipped out
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of the window and got away, concluded the policeman. He
was very quick, said Jimmy. I think he may have
been a professional acrobat. He didn't hurt you, father, No, no,
my dear. Perhaps I frightened him, said Jimmy airily. Mister
mc keechern scowled furtively at him. We mustn't detain you,
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mister Pitt, said Jimmy. My name is Pitt. He turned
to Molly. I hope you enjoyed the voyage, the policeman started.
You know my daughter by sight only. I'm afraid we
were fellow passengers on the Lusitania. Unfortunately I was in
the second cabin. I used to see your daughter walking
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the deck sometimes, Molly smiled. I remember seeing you sometimes.
Mc keechorn burst out. Then you. He stopped and looked
at Molly. The girl was bending over rastus, tickling him
under the ear. Let me show you the way out,
mister Pitt, said the policeman. Shortly his manner was abrupt.
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But when one is speaking to a man whom one
would dearly love to throw out of the window, abruptness
is almost unavoidable. Perhaps I should be going, said Jimmy.
Good night, mister Pitt, said Molly. I hope we shall
meet again, said Jimmy. This way, mister Pitt, growled mc keekorn,
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holding the door. Please don't trouble, said Jimmy. He went
to the window, and, flinging his leg over the sill,
dropped noiselessly to the ground. He turned and put his
head in at the window again. I did that rather well,
he said pleasantly. I think I must take up this
sort of thing as a profession. Good Night. Chapter eight.
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At dreever In the days before he began to expend
his surplus energy in playing rugby football, the Welshman was accustomed,
whenever the monotony of his everyday life began to oppress him,
to collect a few friends and make raids across the
border into England, to the huge discomfort of the dwellers
on the other side. It was to cope with this
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habit that dreaver Castle and the County of Shropshire came
into existence, it had met a long felt want. In
time of trouble, it became a haven of refuge from
all sides. People pour poured into it, emerging cautiously when
the marauders had disappeared. In the whole history of the castle,
there was but one instance recorded of a bandit attempting
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to take the place by storm, and the attack was
an emphatic failure. On receipt of a ladleful of molten
lead aimed to a nicety by one John the Chaplain,
Evidently one of those sporting parsons. This warrior retired done
to a turn to his mountain fastnesses, and was never
heard of again. He would seem, however, to have passed
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the word around among his friends. Four subsequent raiding parties
studiously avoided the castle, and a peasant who had succeeded
in crossing its threshold was for the future considered to
be home and out of the game. Such was the
Driaver of old. In later days, the Welshmen having calmed
down considerably, it had lost its militant character. The old
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wall still stood, gray menacing and unchanged, but they were
the only link with the past. The castle was now
a very comfortable country house, nominally ruled over by Hildebrand
Spencer Point de Burg, John Hanneside Combe Crumbie, twelfth, Earl
of Dreaver. Spenny, to his relatives and intimates, a light
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haired young gentleman of twenty four, but in reality the
possession of his uncle and at Sir Thomas and Lady
Julia Blunt. Lord Dreaver's position was one of some embarrassment.
At no point in their history had the Drivers been
what might call a parsimonious family. If a chance presented
itself of losing money in a particularly wild and feudal manner,
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the driver of the period had invariably sprung at it
with the vim of an energetic bloodhound. The south Sea
Bubble absorbed two hundred thousand pounds of good driver money,
and the remainder of the family fortune was squandered to
the ultimate penny by the sportive gentlemen who held the
title in the days of the regency, when watiers and
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the cocoa tree were in their prime and fortunes had
a habit of disappearing in a single evening. When Spenny
became Earl of Dreever, there was about one dollar and
thirty cents in the family coffers. This is the point
at which Sir Thomas Blunt breaks into Dreaver history. Sir
Thomas was a small, pink, fussy, obstinate man with a
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genius for trade and the ambition of an Alexander the Great,
probably one of the finest and most complete specimens of
the came over Waterloo Bridge with half a crown in
my pocket and now look at me, class of millionaires
in existence. He had started almost literally with nothing. By
carefully excluding from his mind every thought except that of
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making money, he had risen in the world with a
gruesome persistence which nothing could check. At the age of
fifty one, he was chairman of Blunt Stores Limited, a
member of Parliament, silent as a wax figure, but a
great comfort to the party by virtue of liberal contributions
to its funds and a knight. This was good, but
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he aimed still higher. And meeting Spenny's aunt, Lady Julia
Combe Crumbie, just at the moment when financially the Dreevers
were at their lowest ebb, he had effected a very
satisfactory deal by marrying her, thereby becoming, as one might say,
chairman of Dreaver Limited, until Spenny should marry money and
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act on which his chairman vehemently insisted. Sir Thomas held
the purse, and except in minor matters ordered by his wife,
of whom he stood in uneasy awe had things entirely
his own way. One afternoon, a little over a year
after the events recorded in the preceding chapter, Sir Thomas
was in his private room, looking out of the window,
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from which the view was very beautiful. The castle stood
on a hill, the lower portion of which between the
house and the lake had been cut into broad terraces.
The lake itself and its island would the little boat
house in the center gave a glimpse of fairyland. But
it was not altogether the beauty of the view that
had drawn Sir Thomas to the window. He was looking
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at it chiefly because the position enabled him to avoid
his wife's eye, and just at the moment he was
rather anxious to avoid his wife's eye. A somewhat stormy
board meeting was in progress, and Lady Julia, who constituted
the Board of Directors, had been heckling the chairman. The
point under discussion was one of etiquette, and in matters
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of etiquette, Sir Thomas felt himself at a disadvantage. I
tell you, my dear, he said to the window, I
am not easy in my mind. Nonsense, snapped Lady Julia. Absurd, ridiculous,
Lady Julia, blunt, when conversing, resembled a maxim gun. More
than anything else but your diamonds, my dear, We can
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take care of them. But why should we have the
trouble now? If we it's no trouble. When me married,
there was a detective. Don't be childish, Thomas. Detectives at
weddings are quite customary. But bah I paid twenty thousand
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pounds for that rope of diamonds, said Sir Thomas. Obstinately
switched things upon a cash basis, and he was more
at ease. May I ask if you suspect any of
our guests of being criminals, inquired Lady Julia, with a
glance of chill disdain. Sir Thomas looked out of the window.
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At the moment the sternest censor could have found nothing
to cavil at in the movements of such of the
house party as were in sight. Some were playing tennis,
some clock golf and others were smoking. Why no, he admitted,
of course, absurd, quite absurd. But the servants we have
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engaged in number of new servants lately with excellent recommendations.
Sir Thomas was on the point of suggesting that the
recommendations might be forged, but his courage failed him. Julia
was sometimes so abrupt in these little discussions she did
not enter into his point of view. He was always
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a trifle inclined to treat the castle as a branch
of blunt stores. As proprietor of the stores, he had
made a point of suspecting everybody, and the results had
been excellent. In blunt stores, you could hardly move in
any direction without bumping into a gentlemanly detective effectively disguised.
For the life of him, Sir Thomas could not see
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why the same principle should not obtain a Driever, guests
at a country house do not, as a rule, steal
their host's possessions. But then it is only an occasional
customer at a store who goes in for shoplifting. It
was the principle of the thing he thought be prepared
against every emergency. With Sir Thomas blunt suspiciousness was almost
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a mania. He was forced to admit that the chances
were against any of his guests exhibiting larcenous tendencies. But
as for the servants, he thoroughly mistrusted them all except Saunders,
the butler. It had seemed to him the merest prudence
that a detective from a private inquiry agency should be
installed at the castle while the house was full. Somewhat rashly,
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he had mentioned this to his wife, and Lady Julius
critique of the scheme had been terse and unflattering. I suppose,
said Lady Julia, sarcastically, you will jump to the conclusion
that this man whom Spenny is bringing down with him
to day is a criminal of some sort. Ah, is
Spenny bringing a friend. There was not a great deal
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of enthusiasm in Sir Thomas's voice. His nephew was not
a young man whom he respected very highly. Spenny regarded
his uncle with nervous apprehension, as one who would deal
with his shortcomings with vigor and severity. Sir Thomas, for
his part, looked on Spenny as a youth who would
get into mischief unless under his uncle's eye. I had
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a telegram from him just now, Lady Julia explained, who
is his friend? He doesn't say, he just says he's
a man he met in London. Hm, and what does
hum mean? Demanded Lady Julia. A man can pick up
strange people in London, said Sir Thomas, judicially nonsense. Just
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as you say, my dear, Lady Julia rose. As for
what you suggest about the detective it is of course
absolutely absurd. Quite so, my dear, you mustn't think of it.
Just as you say, my dear, Lady Julia left the room.
What followed may afford some slight clue to the secret
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of Sir Thomas Blunt's rise in the world. It certainly
suggests singleness of purpose, which is one of the essentials
of success. No sooner had the door closed behind Lady
Julia than he went to his writing table, took pen
and paper, and wrote the following letter to the manager
Rag's Detective Agency, Holborn Bars, London e c. Sir, with
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reference to my last of the twenty eighth alt, I
should be glad if you would send down immediately one
of your best men, and am making arrangements to receive him
kindly instruct him to present himself at Driva Castle as
applicant for position of valet to myself. I will see
and engage him on his arrival, and further instruct him
in his duties. Yours faithfully, Thomas Blunt, p S. I
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shall expect him to morrow evening there is a good
train leaving Paddington at two fifteen. Sir Thomas read this over,
put in a comma, then placed it in an envelope,
and lighted a cigar with the air of one who
can be checked yes, but vanquished never. Chapter nine, Friends
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New and Old. On the night of the day on
which Sir Thomas Blunt wrote and dispatched his letter to
Ragg's detective agency, Jimmy Pitt chanced to stop at the Savoy.
If you have the money and the clothes, and do
not object to being turned out into the night just
as you are beginning to enjoy yourself. There are few
things pleasanter than supper at the Savoy Hotel, London. But
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as Jimmy sat there, eyeing the multitude through the smoke
of his cigarette, he felt, despite all the brightness and glitter,
that this was a flat world. That he was very
much alone in it. A little over a year had
passed since the merry evening at Police Captain mc keechorn's.
During that time he had covered a good deal of
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new ground. His restlessness had asserted itself. Somebody had mentioned
Morocco in his hearing, and a fortnight later he was
in fez of the principles in that night's drama. He
had seen nothing more. It was only when, after walking
home on air, rejoicing over the strange chance that had
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led to his finding, and having speech with the lady
of the Lusitania, he had reached fifty ninth Street, that
he realized how he had also lost her. It suddenly
came home to him that not only had he not
known her address, but he was ignorant of her name.
Spike had called the man with the revolver Boss throughout
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only that and nothing more except that he was a
police captain. Jimmy knew as little about the man as
he had before their meeting, and Spike, who held the
key to the mystery, had vanished. His acquaintances of that
night had passed out of his life like figures in
a waking dream. As far as the Big Man with
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the pistol was concerned. This did not distress him. He
had known that massive person only for about a quarter
of an hour, but to his thinking, that was ample Spike.
He would have liked to meet again, but he bore
the separation with much fortitude. There remained the girl of
the ship, and she had haunted him with unfailing persistence
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during every one of the three hundred and eighty four
days that had passed since their meeting. It was the
thought of her that had made New York seemed cramped.
For weeks, Jimmy had patrolled the lightly streets, the park
and Riverside Drive in the hope of meeting her. He
had gone to the theaters and restaurants, but with no success.
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Sometimes he had wandered through the Bowery on the chance
of meeting Spike. He had seen redheads in profusion, but
never again that of his young disciple in the art
of burglary. In the end, he had reared worried of
the other friends of the Strollers had gone out again
on his wanderings. He was greatly missed, especially by that
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large section of his circle, which was in perpetual state
of wanting a little to see it through till Saturday.
For years, Jimmy had been to these unfortunates a human
bank on which they could draw at will. It offended
them that one of those rare natures, which are always
good for two dollars at any hour of the day,
should be allowed to waste itself on places like Morocco.
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In Spain, especially Morocco, where by all accounts there were
brigands with almost a New York sense of touch. They
argued earnestly with Jimmy. They spoke of Raizuli and Kate
mc lean. But Jimmy was not to be stopped. The
gad fly was vexing him, and he had to move.
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For a year, he had wandered, realizing every day the
truth of Horace's philosophy for those who travel, that a
man cannot change his feelings with this climate, until finally
he had found himself, as every wanderer does, at Charing Cross.
At this point he had tried to rally such running away,
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he told himself was futile. He would stand still and
fight the fever in him. He had been fighting it
now for a matter of two weeks, and already he
was contemplating retreat a man at luncheon had been talking
about Japan. Watching the crowd, Jimmy had found his attention attracted,
chiefly by a party of three a few tables away.
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The party consisted of a girl rather pretty, a lady
of middle age and stately demeanor, plainly her mother, and
a light haired, weedy young man in the twenties. It
had been the almost incessant prattle of this youth and
the peculiarly high pitched gurgling laugh which shot from him
at short intervals, that had drawn Jimmy's notice upon them,
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And it was the curious cessation of both prattle and
laugh that now made him look again in their direction.
The young man faced Jimmy, and Jimmy, looking at him,
could see that all was not well with him. He
was pale, he talked at random. A slight perspiration was
noticeable on his forehead. Jimmy caught his eye. There was
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a hunted look in it. Given the time and the place,
there were only two things that could have caused this look.
Either the light haired man had seen a ghost, or
he had suddenly realized that he had not enough money
to pay the check. Jimmy's heart went out to the sufferer.
He took a card from his case, scribbled the words
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can I help on it, and gave it to a
waiter to take to the young man, who was now
in a state bordering on collapse. The next moment, the
light haired one was at his table, talking in a
feverish whisper. I say, he said, he is frightfully good
of you, old Chap, frightfully awkward. I've come out with
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too little money. I hardly like to. You've never seen
me before. Don't rub in my misfortunes, pleaded Jimmy. It
wasn't my fault. He placed a five pound note on
the table. Say when, he said, producing another, I say,
thanks fearfully. The young man said, I don't know what
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i'd have done. He grabbed at the note. I'll let
you have it back tomorrow. Here's my card. Is your
address on your card? I can't remember? Oh, by jove,
I've got it in my hand all the time. The
gurgling laugh came into action again, freshened and strengthened by
its rest savoy. He mentions, eh, I'll come round tomorrow.
(31:46):
Thanks frightfully again, old Chap. I don't know what I
should have done, It's been a treat, said Jimmy deprecatingly.
The young man flitted back to his table bearing the spoil.
Jimmy looked at the card he had left, Lord Dreaver.
It read, and in the corner the name of a
well known club. The name Dreaver was familiar to Jimmy.
(32:09):
Everyone knew of Dreaver Castle, partly because it was one
of the oldest houses in England, but principally because for
centuries it had been advertised by a particularly gruesome ghost story.
Everyone had heard of the secret of Driver, which was
known only to the earl and the family lawyer, and
confided to the Heir. At midnight on his twenty first birthday,
(32:31):
Jimmy had come across the story in corners of the
papers all over the States, from New York to one Horseville, Iowa.
He looked with interest at the light haired young man,
the latest depository of the awful secret. It was popularly
supposed that the Heir, after hearing it, never smiled again,
but it did not seem to have affected the present
(32:53):
Lord Dreaver to any great extent. His gurgling laugh was
drowning the orchestra. Probably, Jimmy thought when the family lawyer
had told the light haired young man the secret. The
latter's comment had been, no, really, by Jove, I say,
you know. Jimmy paid his bill and got up to go.
(33:13):
It was a perfect summer night, too perfect for bed.
Jimmy strolled on to the embankment and stood leaning over
the balustrade, looking across the river at the vague, mysterious
mass of buildings on the Surrey side. He must have
been standing there for some time, his thoughts far away,
when a voice spoke at his elbow. I say, excuse me,
(33:36):
have you hullo? It was the light haired Lordship of Dreever.
I say, by Jove, why we're always meeting? A tramp
on a bench close by stirred uneasily in his sleep,
as the gurgling laugh rippled the air. Have you been
to king at the Walter, inquired Lord Dreaver. I have,
I often do. Though you think it sort of makes
(33:59):
a chap, No, you know, sort of. I don't know
how to put it, mushy, said Jimmy. I was going
to say, poetical. Suppose there's a girl. He paused and
looked down at the water. Jimmy was sympathetic with this
mood of contemplation, for in his case too, there was
(34:21):
a girl. I saw my party off in a taxi,
continued Lord Dreaver, and came down here for a smoke.
Only I had the match, have you? Jimmy handed over
his match box. Lord Dreaver lighted a cigar and fixed
his gaze once more on the river. Ripping it looks,
(34:41):
he said. Jimmy nodded. Funny thing, said Lord Dreaver. In
the daytime the water he looks all muddy and beastly.
Damn depressing, I call it. But at night, he paused,
I say, he went on. After a moment, Did you
say the girl I was with at the Savoy, Yes,
(35:03):
said Jimmy. She's a ripper, said Lord Dreaver devoutly on
the Thames Embankment in the small hours of a summer morning.
There is no such thing as a stranger. The man
you talk with is a friend, and if he will listen,
as the etiquette of the place, he must, you may
pour out your heart to him without restraint. It is
(35:26):
expected of you. I'm fearfully in love with her, said
his lordship. She looked a charming girl, said Jimmy. They
examined the water in silence. From somewhere out in the
night came the sound of oars as the police boat
moved on its patrol. Does she make you want to
(35:49):
go to Japan? Asked Jimmy. Suddenly, eh, said Lord Dreaver
startled Japan. Jimmy adroitly abandoned the position of contest and
seize that of confider. I met a girl a year ago,
only really met her once, and even then, Oh well, anyway,
(36:10):
it's made me so restless that I haven't been able
to stay in one place for more than a month.
On end. I tried Morocco and had to quit. I
tried Spain and that wasn't any good either. The other
day I heard a fellow say that Japan was a
pretty interesting sort of country. I was wondering whether I
wouldn't give it a trial. Lord Dreaver regarded this traveled
(36:33):
man with interest. It beats me, he said, wonderingly, what
do you want to leg it about the world like that? For?
What's the trouble? Why don't you stay where the girl
he is? I don't know where she is, don't know
she disappeared. Where did you see who lost, asked his lordship,
(36:57):
as if Molly were a mislaid penknife New York. But
how do you mean disappeared? Don't you know her address?
I don't even know her name? But dash at all,
I say, I mean, have you ever spoken to her?
Only once? It was rather a complicated story. At any rate,
(37:19):
she's gone. Lord Dreaver said that it was a rum business.
Jimmy conceded the point, it seems to me, said his lordship.
We're both in the cart. What's your trouble, Lord Dreaver hesitated,
Oh well, it's only that I want to marry one girl,
(37:41):
and my uncle's dead set on my marrying another. Are
you afraid of hurting your uncle's feelings? It's not so
much as hurting as feelings. It's oh well, it's too
long to tell now. I think I'll be getting home.
I'm staying at our place and Eton Square. How are
(38:02):
you going? If you'll walk, I'll come some of the
way with you. Right you are, let's be pushing along,
shall we. They turned up into the strand and threw
Trafalgar Square into Piccadilly. Piccadilly has a RESTful aspect in
the small hours. Some men were cleaning the road with
water from a long hose. The swishing of the torrent
(38:23):
on the parched wood was musical. Just beyond the gate
of Hyde Park, to the right of the road stands
a cabman's shelter. Conversation and emotion had made Lord Dreever thirsty.
He suggested coffee as a suitable conclusion to the night's revels.
I often go in here when I'm up in town,
he said. The cabbyists don't mind, they're sportsmen. The shelter
(38:47):
was nearly full when they opened the door. It was
very warm inside. A cabin gets so much fresh air
in the exercise of his professional duties that he is
apt to avoid it in private life. The air was
heavy with conflicting sense. Fried onions seemed to be having
the best of the struggle for the moment, though plug
tobacco competed gallantly. A keenly analytical nose might also have
(39:11):
detected the presence of steak and coffee. A dispute seemed
to be in progress as they entered. You don't wish
you was in Russia, said a voice. Yes, I do
wish I was in Russier, retorted a shriveled mummy of
a cabman who was blowing patiently at a saucerful of coffee.
(39:32):
Why do you wish you was in Russia, asked the interlocutor,
introducing a mass of bones and massa johnsing touch into
the dialog. Because you can wide over your knees in blad, there,
said the mummy, in what in blod ruddy blood? That's
why I wish I was in russier cheery cove, that
(39:56):
said Lord Dreever, I say, can you give us some coffee?
I might try Russia instead of Japan, said Jimmy meditatively.
The lethal liquid was brought conversation began again. Other experts
gave their views on the internal affairs of Russia. Jimmy
would have enjoyed it more if he had been less sleepy.
(40:19):
His back was wedged comfortably against the wall of the shelter,
and the heat of the room stole into his brain.
The voices of the disputants grew fainter and fainter. He
had almost dozed off when a new voice cut through
the murmur and woke him. It was a voice he knew,
and the accent was a familiar accent. Gents excuse me?
(40:41):
He looked up the mists of sleep shredded away. A
ragged youth with a crop of fiery red hair was
standing in the doorway regarding the occupants of the shelter
with a grin, half whimsical, half defiant. Jimmy recognized him.
It was Spike Mullins. Excuse me, said Spike Mullins. Is
(41:04):
there any gent in this bunch of professional butes wants
to give a poor orphan that suffers from a painful
toist something to drink? Chances courteously requested not to speak
all in a crowd, Shut that blanky door, said the
mummy cabman, sourly, Ay and hope it, added his laid opponent. Way,
(41:24):
don't want none of your sort. Ear, then you wait
my long lost brothers. After all, said the newcomer, regretfully.
I thought you didn't look handsome enough for that good
night to use. Gents, shut that door? Can't yer when
I'm tellin yer, said the mummy with increased asperity. Spike
(41:44):
was reluctantly withdrawing when Jimmy rose. One moment, he said,
never in his life had Jimmy failed to stand by
a friend in need Spike was not, perhaps exactly a friend,
but even an acquaintance could rely on Jimmy went down
in the world, and Spike was manifestly in that condition.
(42:06):
A look of surprise came into the bowery boy's face,
followed by one of stolid woodenness. He took the sovereign
that Jimmy held out to him with a muttered word
of thanks, and shuffled out of the room. Can't see
what you wanted to give him anything for, said Lord
Dreaver chapelily spend it getting sousd oh. He reminded me
(42:28):
of a man I used to know, did he Barnum's
What is it? I should think? Said his lordship? Shall
we be moving? End of Part three
Part three of the Intrusion of Jimmy by P. G. Woodhouse.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Intrusion
of Jimmy, Chapter seven, Getting Acquainted. A cyclone entering a
room is apt to alter the position of things. This
(00:20):
cyclone shifted a footstool, a small chair, a rug, and spike.
The chair, struck by a massive boot, whirled against the wall.
The footstool rolled away, the rug crumpled up and slid.
Spike with a yell, leaped to his feet, slipped again, fell,
and finally compromised on an all fours position, in which
(00:41):
attitude he remained blinking. While these stirring acts were in progress,
there was the sound of a door opening up stairs,
followed by a scuttering of feet and an appalling increase
in the canine contribution to the current noises. The duet
had now taken on quite a Wagnerian effect. There raced
(01:01):
into the room, first a white bull terrier, he of
the soprano voice, and a bad second his fellow artiste,
the baritone, a massive bulldog bearing a striking resemblance to
the big man with the big lower jaw whose entrance
had started the cyclone, and then, in theatrical parlance, the
entire company held the picture up stage. With his hands
(01:25):
still on the door, stood the men with the jaw
down stage, Jimmy center, Spike and the bulldog, their noses
a couple of inches apart, inspected each other with mutual disfavor.
On the extreme o P side, the bull terrier, who
had fallen foul of a wicker work table, was crouching
with extended tongue and rolling eyes, waiting for the next move.
(01:49):
The householder looked at Jimmy. Jimmy looked at the householder.
Spike and the bulldog looked at each other. The bull
terrier distributed his gaze impartially a round the company. A
typical scene of quiet American home life, murmured Jimmy. The
householder glowered, Hands up, you devils, he roared, pointing a
(02:12):
mammoth revolver. The two marauders humored his whim. Let me explain,
said Jimmy, pacifically, shuffling warily around in order to face
the bull terrier, who was now strolling in his direction
with an iel assumed carelessness. Cape still, you blaggered, Jimmy
kept still. The bull terrier with the same abstracted air,
(02:35):
was beginning a casual inspection of his right trouser leg.
Relations between Spike and the bulldog, meanwhile, had become more strained.
The sudden flinging up of the former's arms had had
the worst effects on the animal's nerves. Spike the croucher
on all fours he might have tolerated, but Spike the
semaphore inspired him with thoughts of battle. He was growling
(02:59):
in a moody, reflective manner. His eye was full of purpose.
It was probably this that caused Spike to look at
the householder. Till then he had been too busy to
shift his gaze. But now the bulldog's eye had become
so unpleasing that he cast a pathetic glance up at
the man by the door. Gee, he cried, it's the boss,
(03:23):
Say Boss, call off the dog. It's sure going to
nip the hull head off on me. The other lowered
the revolver in surprise. So it's you, you limb of Satan,
he remarked, I thought I had seen that damned red
head of yours before. What are you doing in my house?
Spike uttered a howl in which indignation and self pity
(03:46):
were nicely blended. I'll lay for that swede, he cried,
I'll soak it to him. Good, Boss, I've had a
raw deal on the level I has. There's a feller
I know, a fat swede, old larson. His moniker is
and this fetterin me started a scrapping last week and
I puts it all over him, so head it in
(04:08):
for me. But he comes up to me like as
if he's meanin to be good, and he says he's
got a soft proposition for me if I'll give him half.
So I says, all right, where is it? And he
gives me the number of this house and says this
is where a widow lady lives all alone and has
got silver mugs and things to boin, and that she's
(04:29):
a way down south, so there ain't nobody in the house. Gee,
I'll soak it to that swede. It was a raw deal, boss.
He was just hoping to put me in bed with you.
That's how it was, boss, Honest. The Big Man listened
to this sad story of Grecian gifts in silence. Not
so the bulldog, which growled from start to finish. Spike
(04:52):
eyed it uneasily. Won't you call off the dog, boss,
he said. The other stooped and grasped the animal's co
jerking him away. The same treatment, suggested Jimmy, with approval,
would also do a world of good to this playful
and affectionate animal, unless he is a vegetarian, in which case,
(05:12):
don't bother. The big man glowered at him. Who are you,
he demanded? My name began Jimmy is, say, said Spike.
He's a champion burglar. Boss. The householder shut the door. Eh,
he said, he's a champion burglar. From the other side,
(05:33):
he sure is from London. Gee, he's the guy. Tell
him about the bake you opened and the jewels you
swipe from the duchess, and that's what you call it, blowpipe.
It seemed to Jimmy that Spike was showing a certain
want of tact. When you are discovered by a householder
with revolver in his parter at half past three in
(05:54):
the morning, it is surely an injudicious move to lay
stress on your proficiency as a burglar. The householder may
be supposed to take that for granted. The side of
your character that should be advertised in such a crisis
is the non burglarious allusion should be made to the
fact that as a child you attended Sunday school regularly,
(06:14):
and to what the minister said when you took the
Divinity Prize. The idea should be conveyed to the householder's
mind that if led off with a caution, your innate
goodness of heart will lead you to reform and to
avoid such scenes in the future. With some astonishment, therefore,
Jimmy found that these revelations, so far from prejudicing, the
(06:36):
man with the revolver against him, had apparently told in
his favor. The man behind the gun was regarding him
rather with interest than disapproval. So you're a crook from London,
are you? Jimmy did not hesitate. If being a crook
from London was a passport into citizen's parlors in the
(06:56):
small hours, and more particularly if it carried with it
also a safe conduct out of them. Jimmy was not
the man to refuse the role. He bowed, Well, you'll
have to come across now you're in New York, understand that,
and come across good, sure he will, said Spike, charmed
(07:17):
that the tension had been relieved and matters placed upon
a pleasant and business like footing. He'll be good. He's
next to the game. Sure, sure, echoed Jimmy courteously. He
did not understand, but things seemed to be taking a
turn for the better, So why disturb the harmony? This gent,
(07:38):
said Spike respectfully, is boss of the cops, a police captain,
he corrected himself. A light broke upon Jimmy's darkness. He wondered.
He had not understood before. He had not been a
newspaper man in New York for a year without finding
out something of the inner workings of the police force.
He saw now why the other's manner had ed please
(08:01):
to meet you, he said, must have a talk together
one of these days. We must, said the police captain significantly.
He was rich, richer than he had ever hoped to be,
but he was still on Tom Tidler's ground and meant
to make the most of it. Of course, I don't
know your methods on this side, but anything that's usual,
(08:24):
I'll see you at my office, Spike Mullins will show
you where it is. Very well, you must forgive this
preliminary informal call. We came in more to shelter from
the rain than anything you did, did you. Jimmy felt
that it behooved him to stand on his dignity. The
situation demanded it. Why, he said, with some hauteur, in
(08:49):
the ordinary course of business, I should hardly waste time
over a small crib like it's banks. For his murmured
Spike rapturously, he each dem alive and jewels from duchesses.
I admit a partiality for jewels and duchesses, said Jimmy.
(09:09):
And now, as it's a little late, perhaps we had
better ready. Spike, good night, then please to have met you.
I'll see you at my office. I may possibly look in.
I shall be doing very little work in New York.
I fancy I am here merely on vacation. If you
do any work at all, said the policeman coldly. You'll
(09:32):
look in at my office or you'll wish you had
when it's too late. Of course, of course, I shouldn't
dream of omitting any formality that may be usual. But
I don't fancy I shall break my vacation. By the way,
one little thing, have you any objections to my carving
a jay on your front door? The policeman stared on
(09:54):
the inside. It won't show. It's just a whim of mine.
If you have no objection, I don't want any of
your began the policeman. You misunderstand me. It's only that
it means paying for a dinner. I wouldn't for the world.
The policeman pointed to the window out Yah get, he
said abruptly, I've had enough of you, and don't you
(10:17):
forget to come to my office. Spike, still deeply mistrustful
of the bulldog Rastus, jumped at the invitation. He was
through the window and out of sight in the friendly darkness.
Almost before the policeman had finished speaking. Jimmy remained, I
shall be delighted he had begun. Then he stopped. In
(10:38):
the doorway was standing a girl, a girl whom he recognized.
Her startled look told him that she too had recognized him,
not for the first time since he had set out
from his flat that night in Spike's company. Jimmy was
conscious of a sense of the unreality of things. It
was all so exactly as it would have happened in
(10:59):
a dream. He had gone to sleep thinking of this girl,
and here she was. But a glance at the man
with the revolver brought him back to earth. There was
nothing of the dream world about the police captain. That
gentleman whose back was toward the door, had not observed
the addition to the company. Mollie had turned the handle quietly,
(11:19):
and her slippered feet made no sound. It was the
amazed expression on Jimmy's face that caused the captain to
look toward the door. Mollie, the girl smiled, though her
face was white. Jimmy's evening clothes had reassured her. She
did not understand how he came to be there, but
evidently there was nothing wrong. She had interrupted a conversation,
(11:43):
not a conflict. I heard the noise and you going downstairs,
and I sent the dogs down to help you, father,
she said, and then after a little I came down
to see if you were all right. Mister mc keechorn
was perplexed. Molly's arrival had put him in an awkward position.
To denounce the visitor as a cracksman was now impossible,
(12:04):
for he knew too much. The only real fear of
the policeman's life was lest some word of his money
making methods might come to his daughter's ears. Quite a
brilliant idea came to him. A man broke in, my dear,
he said. This gentleman was passing and saw him distinctly,
said Jimmy, an ugly looking customer. But he slipped out
(12:29):
of the window and got away, concluded the policeman. He
was very quick, said Jimmy. I think he may have
been a professional acrobat. He didn't hurt you, father, No, no,
my dear. Perhaps I frightened him, said Jimmy airily. Mister
mc keechern scowled furtively at him. We mustn't detain you,
(12:52):
mister Pitt, said Jimmy. My name is Pitt. He turned
to Molly. I hope you enjoyed the voyage, the policeman started.
You know my daughter by sight only. I'm afraid we
were fellow passengers on the Lusitania. Unfortunately I was in
the second cabin. I used to see your daughter walking
(13:13):
the deck sometimes, Molly smiled. I remember seeing you sometimes.
Mc keechorn burst out. Then you. He stopped and looked
at Molly. The girl was bending over rastus, tickling him
under the ear. Let me show you the way out,
mister Pitt, said the policeman. Shortly his manner was abrupt.
(13:37):
But when one is speaking to a man whom one
would dearly love to throw out of the window, abruptness
is almost unavoidable. Perhaps I should be going, said Jimmy.
Good night, mister Pitt, said Molly. I hope we shall
meet again, said Jimmy. This way, mister Pitt, growled mc keekorn,
(13:58):
holding the door. Please don't trouble, said Jimmy. He went
to the window, and, flinging his leg over the sill,
dropped noiselessly to the ground. He turned and put his
head in at the window again. I did that rather well,
he said pleasantly. I think I must take up this
sort of thing as a profession. Good Night. Chapter eight.
(14:24):
At dreever In the days before he began to expend
his surplus energy in playing rugby football, the Welshman was accustomed,
whenever the monotony of his everyday life began to oppress him,
to collect a few friends and make raids across the
border into England, to the huge discomfort of the dwellers
on the other side. It was to cope with this
(14:47):
habit that dreaver Castle and the County of Shropshire came
into existence, it had met a long felt want. In
time of trouble, it became a haven of refuge from
all sides. People pour poured into it, emerging cautiously when
the marauders had disappeared. In the whole history of the castle,
there was but one instance recorded of a bandit attempting
(15:09):
to take the place by storm, and the attack was
an emphatic failure. On receipt of a ladleful of molten
lead aimed to a nicety by one John the Chaplain,
Evidently one of those sporting parsons. This warrior retired done
to a turn to his mountain fastnesses, and was never
heard of again. He would seem, however, to have passed
(15:31):
the word around among his friends. Four subsequent raiding parties
studiously avoided the castle, and a peasant who had succeeded
in crossing its threshold was for the future considered to
be home and out of the game. Such was the
Driaver of old. In later days, the Welshmen having calmed
down considerably, it had lost its militant character. The old
(15:54):
wall still stood, gray menacing and unchanged, but they were
the only link with the past. The castle was now
a very comfortable country house, nominally ruled over by Hildebrand
Spencer Point de Burg, John Hanneside Combe Crumbie, twelfth, Earl
of Dreaver. Spenny, to his relatives and intimates, a light
(16:15):
haired young gentleman of twenty four, but in reality the
possession of his uncle and at Sir Thomas and Lady
Julia Blunt. Lord Dreaver's position was one of some embarrassment.
At no point in their history had the Drivers been
what might call a parsimonious family. If a chance presented
itself of losing money in a particularly wild and feudal manner,
(16:39):
the driver of the period had invariably sprung at it
with the vim of an energetic bloodhound. The south Sea
Bubble absorbed two hundred thousand pounds of good driver money,
and the remainder of the family fortune was squandered to
the ultimate penny by the sportive gentlemen who held the
title in the days of the regency, when watiers and
(16:59):
the cocoa tree were in their prime and fortunes had
a habit of disappearing in a single evening. When Spenny
became Earl of Dreever, there was about one dollar and
thirty cents in the family coffers. This is the point
at which Sir Thomas Blunt breaks into Dreaver history. Sir
Thomas was a small, pink, fussy, obstinate man with a
(17:22):
genius for trade and the ambition of an Alexander the Great,
probably one of the finest and most complete specimens of
the came over Waterloo Bridge with half a crown in
my pocket and now look at me, class of millionaires
in existence. He had started almost literally with nothing. By
carefully excluding from his mind every thought except that of
(17:43):
making money, he had risen in the world with a
gruesome persistence which nothing could check. At the age of
fifty one, he was chairman of Blunt Stores Limited, a
member of Parliament, silent as a wax figure, but a
great comfort to the party by virtue of liberal contributions
to its funds and a knight. This was good, but
(18:04):
he aimed still higher. And meeting Spenny's aunt, Lady Julia
Combe Crumbie, just at the moment when financially the Dreevers
were at their lowest ebb, he had effected a very
satisfactory deal by marrying her, thereby becoming, as one might say,
chairman of Dreaver Limited, until Spenny should marry money and
(18:25):
act on which his chairman vehemently insisted. Sir Thomas held
the purse, and except in minor matters ordered by his wife,
of whom he stood in uneasy awe had things entirely
his own way. One afternoon, a little over a year
after the events recorded in the preceding chapter, Sir Thomas
was in his private room, looking out of the window,
(18:48):
from which the view was very beautiful. The castle stood
on a hill, the lower portion of which between the
house and the lake had been cut into broad terraces.
The lake itself and its island would the little boat
house in the center gave a glimpse of fairyland. But
it was not altogether the beauty of the view that
had drawn Sir Thomas to the window. He was looking
(19:09):
at it chiefly because the position enabled him to avoid
his wife's eye, and just at the moment he was
rather anxious to avoid his wife's eye. A somewhat stormy
board meeting was in progress, and Lady Julia, who constituted
the Board of Directors, had been heckling the chairman. The
point under discussion was one of etiquette, and in matters
(19:31):
of etiquette, Sir Thomas felt himself at a disadvantage. I
tell you, my dear, he said to the window, I
am not easy in my mind. Nonsense, snapped Lady Julia. Absurd, ridiculous,
Lady Julia, blunt, when conversing, resembled a maxim gun. More
than anything else but your diamonds, my dear, We can
(19:55):
take care of them. But why should we have the
trouble now? If we it's no trouble. When me married,
there was a detective. Don't be childish, Thomas. Detectives at
weddings are quite customary. But bah I paid twenty thousand
(20:16):
pounds for that rope of diamonds, said Sir Thomas. Obstinately
switched things upon a cash basis, and he was more
at ease. May I ask if you suspect any of
our guests of being criminals, inquired Lady Julia, with a
glance of chill disdain. Sir Thomas looked out of the window.
(20:38):
At the moment the sternest censor could have found nothing
to cavil at in the movements of such of the
house party as were in sight. Some were playing tennis,
some clock golf and others were smoking. Why no, he admitted,
of course, absurd, quite absurd. But the servants we have
(20:59):
engaged in number of new servants lately with excellent recommendations.
Sir Thomas was on the point of suggesting that the
recommendations might be forged, but his courage failed him. Julia
was sometimes so abrupt in these little discussions she did
not enter into his point of view. He was always
(21:19):
a trifle inclined to treat the castle as a branch
of blunt stores. As proprietor of the stores, he had
made a point of suspecting everybody, and the results had
been excellent. In blunt stores, you could hardly move in
any direction without bumping into a gentlemanly detective effectively disguised.
For the life of him, Sir Thomas could not see
(21:41):
why the same principle should not obtain a Driever, guests
at a country house do not, as a rule, steal
their host's possessions. But then it is only an occasional
customer at a store who goes in for shoplifting. It
was the principle of the thing he thought be prepared
against every emergency. With Sir Thomas blunt suspiciousness was almost
(22:05):
a mania. He was forced to admit that the chances
were against any of his guests exhibiting larcenous tendencies. But
as for the servants, he thoroughly mistrusted them all except Saunders,
the butler. It had seemed to him the merest prudence
that a detective from a private inquiry agency should be
installed at the castle while the house was full. Somewhat rashly,
(22:29):
he had mentioned this to his wife, and Lady Julius
critique of the scheme had been terse and unflattering. I suppose,
said Lady Julia, sarcastically, you will jump to the conclusion
that this man whom Spenny is bringing down with him
to day is a criminal of some sort. Ah, is
Spenny bringing a friend. There was not a great deal
(22:53):
of enthusiasm in Sir Thomas's voice. His nephew was not
a young man whom he respected very highly. Spenny regarded
his uncle with nervous apprehension, as one who would deal
with his shortcomings with vigor and severity. Sir Thomas, for
his part, looked on Spenny as a youth who would
get into mischief unless under his uncle's eye. I had
(23:16):
a telegram from him just now, Lady Julia explained, who
is his friend? He doesn't say, he just says he's
a man he met in London. Hm, and what does
hum mean? Demanded Lady Julia. A man can pick up
strange people in London, said Sir Thomas, judicially nonsense. Just
(23:41):
as you say, my dear, Lady Julia rose. As for
what you suggest about the detective it is of course
absolutely absurd. Quite so, my dear, you mustn't think of it.
Just as you say, my dear, Lady Julia left the room.
What followed may afford some slight clue to the secret
(24:04):
of Sir Thomas Blunt's rise in the world. It certainly
suggests singleness of purpose, which is one of the essentials
of success. No sooner had the door closed behind Lady
Julia than he went to his writing table, took pen
and paper, and wrote the following letter to the manager
Rag's Detective Agency, Holborn Bars, London e c. Sir, with
(24:28):
reference to my last of the twenty eighth alt, I
should be glad if you would send down immediately one
of your best men, and am making arrangements to receive him
kindly instruct him to present himself at Driva Castle as
applicant for position of valet to myself. I will see
and engage him on his arrival, and further instruct him
in his duties. Yours faithfully, Thomas Blunt, p S. I
(24:52):
shall expect him to morrow evening there is a good
train leaving Paddington at two fifteen. Sir Thomas read this over,
put in a comma, then placed it in an envelope,
and lighted a cigar with the air of one who
can be checked yes, but vanquished never. Chapter nine, Friends
(25:13):
New and Old. On the night of the day on
which Sir Thomas Blunt wrote and dispatched his letter to
Ragg's detective agency, Jimmy Pitt chanced to stop at the Savoy.
If you have the money and the clothes, and do
not object to being turned out into the night just
as you are beginning to enjoy yourself. There are few
things pleasanter than supper at the Savoy Hotel, London. But
(25:37):
as Jimmy sat there, eyeing the multitude through the smoke
of his cigarette, he felt, despite all the brightness and glitter,
that this was a flat world. That he was very
much alone in it. A little over a year had
passed since the merry evening at Police Captain mc keechorn's.
During that time he had covered a good deal of
(25:58):
new ground. His restlessness had asserted itself. Somebody had mentioned
Morocco in his hearing, and a fortnight later he was
in fez of the principles in that night's drama. He
had seen nothing more. It was only when, after walking
home on air, rejoicing over the strange chance that had
(26:20):
led to his finding, and having speech with the lady
of the Lusitania, he had reached fifty ninth Street, that
he realized how he had also lost her. It suddenly
came home to him that not only had he not
known her address, but he was ignorant of her name.
Spike had called the man with the revolver Boss throughout
(26:40):
only that and nothing more except that he was a
police captain. Jimmy knew as little about the man as
he had before their meeting, and Spike, who held the
key to the mystery, had vanished. His acquaintances of that
night had passed out of his life like figures in
a waking dream. As far as the Big Man with
(27:01):
the pistol was concerned. This did not distress him. He
had known that massive person only for about a quarter
of an hour, but to his thinking, that was ample Spike.
He would have liked to meet again, but he bore
the separation with much fortitude. There remained the girl of
the ship, and she had haunted him with unfailing persistence
(27:23):
during every one of the three hundred and eighty four
days that had passed since their meeting. It was the
thought of her that had made New York seemed cramped.
For weeks, Jimmy had patrolled the lightly streets, the park
and Riverside Drive in the hope of meeting her. He
had gone to the theaters and restaurants, but with no success.
(27:46):
Sometimes he had wandered through the Bowery on the chance
of meeting Spike. He had seen redheads in profusion, but
never again that of his young disciple in the art
of burglary. In the end, he had reared worried of
the other friends of the Strollers had gone out again
on his wanderings. He was greatly missed, especially by that
(28:07):
large section of his circle, which was in perpetual state
of wanting a little to see it through till Saturday.
For years, Jimmy had been to these unfortunates a human
bank on which they could draw at will. It offended
them that one of those rare natures, which are always
good for two dollars at any hour of the day,
should be allowed to waste itself on places like Morocco.
(28:30):
In Spain, especially Morocco, where by all accounts there were
brigands with almost a New York sense of touch. They
argued earnestly with Jimmy. They spoke of Raizuli and Kate
mc lean. But Jimmy was not to be stopped. The
gad fly was vexing him, and he had to move.
(28:51):
For a year, he had wandered, realizing every day the
truth of Horace's philosophy for those who travel, that a
man cannot change his feelings with this climate, until finally
he had found himself, as every wanderer does, at Charing Cross.
At this point he had tried to rally such running away,
(29:11):
he told himself was futile. He would stand still and
fight the fever in him. He had been fighting it
now for a matter of two weeks, and already he
was contemplating retreat a man at luncheon had been talking
about Japan. Watching the crowd, Jimmy had found his attention attracted,
chiefly by a party of three a few tables away.
(29:34):
The party consisted of a girl rather pretty, a lady
of middle age and stately demeanor, plainly her mother, and
a light haired, weedy young man in the twenties. It
had been the almost incessant prattle of this youth and
the peculiarly high pitched gurgling laugh which shot from him
at short intervals, that had drawn Jimmy's notice upon them,
(29:57):
And it was the curious cessation of both prattle and
laugh that now made him look again in their direction.
The young man faced Jimmy, and Jimmy, looking at him,
could see that all was not well with him. He
was pale, he talked at random. A slight perspiration was
noticeable on his forehead. Jimmy caught his eye. There was
(30:20):
a hunted look in it. Given the time and the place,
there were only two things that could have caused this look.
Either the light haired man had seen a ghost, or
he had suddenly realized that he had not enough money
to pay the check. Jimmy's heart went out to the sufferer.
He took a card from his case, scribbled the words
(30:42):
can I help on it, and gave it to a
waiter to take to the young man, who was now
in a state bordering on collapse. The next moment, the
light haired one was at his table, talking in a
feverish whisper. I say, he said, he is frightfully good
of you, old Chap, frightfully awkward. I've come out with
(31:02):
too little money. I hardly like to. You've never seen
me before. Don't rub in my misfortunes, pleaded Jimmy. It
wasn't my fault. He placed a five pound note on
the table. Say when, he said, producing another, I say,
thanks fearfully. The young man said, I don't know what
(31:24):
i'd have done. He grabbed at the note. I'll let
you have it back tomorrow. Here's my card. Is your
address on your card? I can't remember? Oh, by jove,
I've got it in my hand all the time. The
gurgling laugh came into action again, freshened and strengthened by
its rest savoy. He mentions, eh, I'll come round tomorrow.
(31:46):
Thanks frightfully again, old Chap. I don't know what I
should have done, It's been a treat, said Jimmy deprecatingly.
The young man flitted back to his table bearing the spoil.
Jimmy looked at the card he had left, Lord Dreaver.
It read, and in the corner the name of a
well known club. The name Dreaver was familiar to Jimmy.
(32:09):
Everyone knew of Dreaver Castle, partly because it was one
of the oldest houses in England, but principally because for
centuries it had been advertised by a particularly gruesome ghost story.
Everyone had heard of the secret of Driver, which was
known only to the earl and the family lawyer, and
confided to the Heir. At midnight on his twenty first birthday,
(32:31):
Jimmy had come across the story in corners of the
papers all over the States, from New York to one Horseville, Iowa.
He looked with interest at the light haired young man,
the latest depository of the awful secret. It was popularly
supposed that the Heir, after hearing it, never smiled again,
but it did not seem to have affected the present
(32:53):
Lord Dreaver to any great extent. His gurgling laugh was
drowning the orchestra. Probably, Jimmy thought when the family lawyer
had told the light haired young man the secret. The
latter's comment had been, no, really, by Jove, I say,
you know. Jimmy paid his bill and got up to go.
(33:13):
It was a perfect summer night, too perfect for bed.
Jimmy strolled on to the embankment and stood leaning over
the balustrade, looking across the river at the vague, mysterious
mass of buildings on the Surrey side. He must have
been standing there for some time, his thoughts far away,
when a voice spoke at his elbow. I say, excuse me,
(33:36):
have you hullo? It was the light haired Lordship of Dreever.
I say, by Jove, why we're always meeting? A tramp
on a bench close by stirred uneasily in his sleep,
as the gurgling laugh rippled the air. Have you been
to king at the Walter, inquired Lord Dreaver. I have,
I often do. Though you think it sort of makes
(33:59):
a chap, No, you know, sort of. I don't know
how to put it, mushy, said Jimmy. I was going
to say, poetical. Suppose there's a girl. He paused and
looked down at the water. Jimmy was sympathetic with this
mood of contemplation, for in his case too, there was
(34:21):
a girl. I saw my party off in a taxi,
continued Lord Dreaver, and came down here for a smoke.
Only I had the match, have you? Jimmy handed over
his match box. Lord Dreaver lighted a cigar and fixed
his gaze once more on the river. Ripping it looks,
(34:41):
he said. Jimmy nodded. Funny thing, said Lord Dreaver. In
the daytime the water he looks all muddy and beastly.
Damn depressing, I call it. But at night, he paused,
I say, he went on. After a moment, Did you
say the girl I was with at the Savoy, Yes,
(35:03):
said Jimmy. She's a ripper, said Lord Dreaver devoutly on
the Thames Embankment in the small hours of a summer morning.
There is no such thing as a stranger. The man
you talk with is a friend, and if he will listen,
as the etiquette of the place, he must, you may
pour out your heart to him without restraint. It is
(35:26):
expected of you. I'm fearfully in love with her, said
his lordship. She looked a charming girl, said Jimmy. They
examined the water in silence. From somewhere out in the
night came the sound of oars as the police boat
moved on its patrol. Does she make you want to
(35:49):
go to Japan? Asked Jimmy. Suddenly, eh, said Lord Dreaver
startled Japan. Jimmy adroitly abandoned the position of contest and
seize that of confider. I met a girl a year ago,
only really met her once, and even then, Oh well, anyway,
(36:10):
it's made me so restless that I haven't been able
to stay in one place for more than a month.
On end. I tried Morocco and had to quit. I
tried Spain and that wasn't any good either. The other
day I heard a fellow say that Japan was a
pretty interesting sort of country. I was wondering whether I
wouldn't give it a trial. Lord Dreaver regarded this traveled
(36:33):
man with interest. It beats me, he said, wonderingly, what
do you want to leg it about the world like that? For?
What's the trouble? Why don't you stay where the girl
he is? I don't know where she is, don't know
she disappeared. Where did you see who lost, asked his lordship,
(36:57):
as if Molly were a mislaid penknife New York. But
how do you mean disappeared? Don't you know her address?
I don't even know her name? But dash at all,
I say, I mean, have you ever spoken to her?
Only once? It was rather a complicated story. At any rate,
(37:19):
she's gone. Lord Dreaver said that it was a rum business.
Jimmy conceded the point, it seems to me, said his lordship.
We're both in the cart. What's your trouble, Lord Dreaver hesitated,
Oh well, it's only that I want to marry one girl,
(37:41):
and my uncle's dead set on my marrying another. Are
you afraid of hurting your uncle's feelings? It's not so
much as hurting as feelings. It's oh well, it's too
long to tell now. I think I'll be getting home.
I'm staying at our place and Eton Square. How are
(38:02):
you going? If you'll walk, I'll come some of the
way with you. Right you are, let's be pushing along,
shall we. They turned up into the strand and threw
Trafalgar Square into Piccadilly. Piccadilly has a RESTful aspect in
the small hours. Some men were cleaning the road with
water from a long hose. The swishing of the torrent
(38:23):
on the parched wood was musical. Just beyond the gate
of Hyde Park, to the right of the road stands
a cabman's shelter. Conversation and emotion had made Lord Dreever thirsty.
He suggested coffee as a suitable conclusion to the night's revels.
I often go in here when I'm up in town,
he said. The cabbyists don't mind, they're sportsmen. The shelter
(38:47):
was nearly full when they opened the door. It was
very warm inside. A cabin gets so much fresh air
in the exercise of his professional duties that he is
apt to avoid it in private life. The air was
heavy with conflicting sense. Fried onions seemed to be having
the best of the struggle for the moment, though plug
tobacco competed gallantly. A keenly analytical nose might also have
(39:11):
detected the presence of steak and coffee. A dispute seemed
to be in progress as they entered. You don't wish
you was in Russia, said a voice. Yes, I do
wish I was in Russier, retorted a shriveled mummy of
a cabman who was blowing patiently at a saucerful of coffee.
(39:32):
Why do you wish you was in Russia, asked the interlocutor,
introducing a mass of bones and massa johnsing touch into
the dialog. Because you can wide over your knees in blad, there,
said the mummy, in what in blod ruddy blood? That's
why I wish I was in russier cheery cove, that
(39:56):
said Lord Dreever, I say, can you give us some coffee?
I might try Russia instead of Japan, said Jimmy meditatively.
The lethal liquid was brought conversation began again. Other experts
gave their views on the internal affairs of Russia. Jimmy
would have enjoyed it more if he had been less sleepy.
(40:19):
His back was wedged comfortably against the wall of the shelter,
and the heat of the room stole into his brain.
The voices of the disputants grew fainter and fainter. He
had almost dozed off when a new voice cut through
the murmur and woke him. It was a voice he knew,
and the accent was a familiar accent. Gents excuse me?
(40:41):
He looked up the mists of sleep shredded away. A
ragged youth with a crop of fiery red hair was
standing in the doorway regarding the occupants of the shelter
with a grin, half whimsical, half defiant. Jimmy recognized him.
It was Spike Mullins. Excuse me, said Spike Mullins. Is
(41:04):
there any gent in this bunch of professional butes wants
to give a poor orphan that suffers from a painful
toist something to drink? Chances courteously requested not to speak
all in a crowd, Shut that blanky door, said the
mummy cabman, sourly, Ay and hope it, added his laid opponent. Way,
(41:24):
don't want none of your sort. Ear, then you wait
my long lost brothers. After all, said the newcomer, regretfully.
I thought you didn't look handsome enough for that good
night to use. Gents, shut that door? Can't yer when
I'm tellin yer, said the mummy with increased asperity. Spike
(41:44):
was reluctantly withdrawing when Jimmy rose. One moment, he said,
never in his life had Jimmy failed to stand by
a friend in need Spike was not, perhaps exactly a friend,
but even an acquaintance could rely on Jimmy went down
in the world, and Spike was manifestly in that condition.
(42:06):
A look of surprise came into the bowery boy's face,
followed by one of stolid woodenness. He took the sovereign
that Jimmy held out to him with a muttered word
of thanks, and shuffled out of the room. Can't see
what you wanted to give him anything for, said Lord
Dreaver chapelily spend it getting sousd oh. He reminded me
(42:28):
of a man I used to know, did he Barnum's
What is it? I should think? Said his lordship? Shall
we be moving? End of Part three
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