October 8, 2025 • 42 mins
07 - Part 7. 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 seven of The Intrusion of Jimmy by P. G. Woodhouse.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain The Intrusion
of Jimmy, Chapter nineteen on the Lake. In making Love,
as in every other branch of life, consistency is the
quality most to be aimed at. To hedge is fatal.
(00:25):
A man must choose the line of action that he
judges to be best suited to his temperament, and hold
to it without deviation. If loch Andvars snatches the maiden
up on his saddle bow, he must continue in that vein.
He must not fancy that, having accomplished the feat, he
can resume the episode on lines of devotional humility. Prehistoric
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man who conducted his courtship with a club never fell
into the error of apologizing when his bride complained of headache.
Jimmy did not apologize. The idea did not enter his mind.
He was feeling prehistoric. His heart was beating fast, and
his mind was in a whirl. But the one definite
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thought that came to him during the first few seconds
of the journey was that he ought to have done
this earlier. This was the right way. Pick her up
and carry her off and leave uncles and fathers and
butter haired peers of the realm to look after themselves.
This was the way, alone together in their own little
world of water, with nobody to interrupt and nobody to overhear.
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He should have done it before. He had wasted precious
golden time hanging about while futile men chattered to her
of things that could not possibly be of interest. But
he had done the right thing. At last, he had
got her. She must listen to him. Now. She could
not help listening. They were the only inhabitants of this
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new world. He looked back over his shoulder at the
world they had left. The last of the drievers had
rounded the clump of laurels and was standing at the
edge of the water, gazing perplexedly after the retreating canoe.
These poets put a thing very neatly, sometimes, said Jimmy reflectively,
as he dug the paddle into the water. The man
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who said distance lends enchantment to the view. For instance,
dreaver looks quite nice when you see him as far
away as this, with a good strip of water in between.
Molly gazing over the side of the boat into the
lake abstained from feasting her eyes on the picturesque spectacle.
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Why did you do it? She said in a low voice.
Jimmy shipped the paddle and allowed the canoe to drift.
The ripple of the water against the prow sounded clear
and thin. In the stillness, the world seemed asleep. The
sun blazed down, turning the water to flame. The air
was hot, with the damp electrical heat that heralds a
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thunder storm. Molly's face looked small and cool in the
shade of her big hat. Jimmy, as he watched her,
felt that he had done well. This was indeed the way.
Why did you do it? She said again? I had
to take me back. No. He took up the paddle
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and placed a broader strip of water between the two worlds,
then paused once more. I have something to say to
you first, he said. She did not answer. He looked
over his shoulder again. His lordship had disappeared. Do you
mind if I smoke? She nodded. He filled his pipe
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carefully and lighted it. The smoke moved sluggishly up through
the still air. There was a long silence. A fish
jumped close by, falling back in a shell. Of silver drops.
Molly started at the sound and half turned. That was
a fish, she said, as a child might have done.
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Jimmy knocked the ashes out of his pipe. What made
you do it? He asked, abruptly, echoing her own question.
She drew her fingers slowly through the water without speaking.
You know what I mean, Dreaver told me. She looked
up with a flash of spirit, which died away as
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she spoke. What right? She stopped and looked away again. None,
said Jimmy. But I wish you would tell me. She
hung her head. Jimmy bent forward and touched her hand. Don't,
he said, For God's sake, don't you mustn't? I must?
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She said, miserably. You shan't. It's wicked. I must. It's
no good talking about it. It's too late, it's not
you must break it off to day. She shook her head.
Her finger still dabbled mechanically in the water. The sun
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was hidden now behind a gray veil, which deepened into
a sullen black over the hill behind the castle. The
heat had grown more oppressive with a threat of coming storm.
What made you do it? He asked again. Don't let's
talk about it? Please? He had a momentary glimpse of
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her face. There were tears in her eyes at the sight.
His self control snapped. You shan't, he cried, It's ghastly.
I won't let you. You must understand now, you must
know what you are to me. Do you think I
shall let you? A low growl of thunder rumbled through
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the stillness, like the muttering of a sleepy giant. The
black cloud that had hung over the hill had crept closer.
The heat was stifling in the middle of the lake.
Some fifty yards distant lay the island, cool and mysterious
in the gathering darkness. Jimmy broke off and seized the paddle.
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On this side of the island was a boat house,
a little creek covered over with boards and capable of
sheltering an ordinary rowboat. He ran the canoe in just
as the storm began, and turned her broadside on so
that they could watch the rain, which was sweeping over
the lake in sheets. He began to speak again, more slowly. Now,
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I think I loved you from the first day I
saw you on the ship, and then I lost you.
I found you again by a miracle, and lost you again.
I found you here by another miracle. But this time
I am not going to lose you. Do you think
I'm going to stand by and see you taken from
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me by by? He took her hand. Mollie, you can't
love him. It isn't possible. If I thought you did,
I wouldn't try to spoil your happiness. I'd go away.
But you don't. You can't. He's nothing, Molly. The canoe
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rocked as he leaned toward her. Molly, she said nothing,
but for the first time her eyes met his, clear
and unwavering, he could read fear in them, fear not
of himself, of something vague, something he could not guess at.
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But they shone with a light that conquered the fear
as the sun conquers fire. And he drew her to
him and kissed her again and again, murmuring incoherently. Suddenly
she wrenched herself away, struggling like some wild thing. The
boat plunged. I can't, she cried in a choking voice.
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I mustn't, Oh, I can't. He stretched out a hand
and clutched at the rail that ran along the wall.
The plunging ceased. He turned. She had hidden her face
and was sobbing quietly with the forlorn hopelessness of a
lost child. He made a movement toward her, but drew back.
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He felt dazed. The rain thudded and splashed on the
wooden roof. A few drops trickled through a crack in
the boards. He took off his coat and placed it
gently over her shoulders. Mollie. She looked up with wet eyes. Mollie, dear,
what is it? I mustn't. It isn't right. I don't understand.
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I mustn't Jimmy. He moved cautiously forward, holding the rain
till he was at her side, and took her in
his arms. What is it, dear? Tell me? She clung
to him, without speaking. You aren't worried about him? Are
you about Driever? There's nothing to worry about. It'll be
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quite easy and simple. I'll tell him if you like.
He knows you don't care for him. And besides, there's
a girl in London that he No. No, it's not that.
What is it, dear? What's troubling you? Jimmy? She stopped.
He waited, Yes, Jimmy, My father wouldn't. Father father doesn't
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doesn't like me. She nodded. Miserably. A great wave of
relief swept over Jimmy. He had imagined. He hardly knew
what he had imagined, some vast, insuperable obstacle, some tremendous catastrophe,
whirling them asunder. He could have laughed aloud in his happiness.
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So this was it, This was the cloud that brooded
over them. That mister mc keechorn did not like him.
The angel guarding Eden with a fiery sword had changed
into a policeman with a truncheon. He must learn to
love me, he said lightly. She looked at him hopelessly.
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He could not see me, He could not understand, and
how could she tell him. Her father's words rang in
her brain. He was crooked, he was here on some game,
he was being watched. But she loved him, She loved him. Oh,
how could she make him understand? She clung tighter to him, trembling.
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He became serious again. Dear, you mustn't worry, he said.
It can't be helped. He'll come round once we're married. No, no, oh,
can't you understand. I couldn't. I couldn't. Jimmy's face whitened.
He looked at her anxiously, but dear, he said, you can't.
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Do you mean to say will that? He searched for
a word, stop you, he concluded, it must, she whispered.
A cold hand clutched at his heart. His world was
falling to pieces, crumbling under his eyes. But but you
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love me, he said slowly. It was as if he
were trying to find the key to a puzzle. I
don't see you couldn't. You can't. You're a man, You
don't know. It's so different. For a man he's brought
up all his life with the idea of leaving home.
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He goes away naturally. But dear, you couldn't live at
home all your life, whoever you married. But this would
be different. Father would never speak to me again. I
should never see him again. He would go right out
of my life. Jimmy, I couldn't. A girl can't cut
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away twenty years of her life and start fresh like that.
I should be haunted. I should make you miserable. Every
day A hundred little things would remind me of him,
and I shouldn't be strong enough to resist them. You
don't know how fond he is of me, how good
he has always been. Ever since I can remember, we've
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been such friends. You've only seen the outside of him,
and I know how different that is from what he
really is. All his life he has thought only of me.
He has told me things about himself which nobody else
dreams of. And I know that all these years he
has been working just for me. Jimmy, you don't hate
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me for saying this, do you? Go on? He said,
drawing her closer to him. I can't remember my mother.
She died when I was quite little, so he and
I have been the only ones till you came. Memories
of those early days crowded her mind as she spoke,
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making her voice tremble. Half forgotten trifles, many of them
fraught with the glamor and fragrance of past happiness. We
have always been together. He trusted me, and I trusted him,
and we saw things through together. When I was ill,
he used to sit up all night with me, night
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after night. Once I'd only gotten a little fever, really,
but I thought I was terribly bad. I heard him
come in late and called out to him, and he
came straight in and sat and held my hand all
through the night. And it was only by accident I
found out later that it had been raining and that
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he was soaked through it might have killed him. We
were partners, Jimmy, dear. I couldn't do anything to hurt him, now,
could I? It wouldn't be square. Jimmy had turned away
his head for fear his face might betray what he
was feeling. He was in a hell of unreasoning jealousy.
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He wanted her body and soul and every word she
said bit like a raw wound. A moment before, he
had felt that she belonged to him. Now, in the
first shock of reaction, he saw himself a stranger, an intruder,
a trespasser on holy ground. She saw the movement, and
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her intuition put her in touch with his thoughts. No, no,
she cried, no, Jimmy not that their eyes met, and
he was satisfied. They sat there silent. The rain had
lessened in its force and was falling now in a
gentle shower. A strip of blue sky, pale and watery,
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showed through the gray over the hills on the island.
Close behind them, A thrush had begun to sing. What
are we to do? She said? At last, what can
we do? We must wait? He said, It will all
come right, It must nothing can stop us. Now the
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rain had ceased, the Blue had routed the gray and
driven it from the sky. The sun, low down in
the west, shone out bravely over the lake. The air
was cool and fresh. Jimmy's spirit rose with a bound.
He accepted the omen. This was the world as it
really was, smiling and friendly, not gray as he had
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fancied it. He had won. Nothing could alter that. What
remained to be done was trivial. He wondered how he
could ever have allowed it to weigh upon him. After
a while, he pushed the boat out of its shelter,
on to the glittering water and seize the paddle. We
must be getting back, he said. I wonder what time
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it is. I wish we could stay out forever, but
it must be late. Molly. Yes, whatever happens, you'll break
off this engagement with Driever, shall I tell him? I will?
If you like, no, I will. I'll write him a
note if I don't see him before dinner. Jimmy paddled
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on a few strokes. It's no good, he said, suddenly,
I can't keep it in Molly. Do you mind if
I sing a bar or two? I've got a beastly voice.
But I'm feeling rather happy. I'll stop as soon as
I can. He raised his voice discordantly covertly. From beneath
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the shade of her big hat, Molly watched him with
troubled eyes. The sun had gone down behind the hills,
and the water had ceased to glitter. There was a
suggestion of chill in the air. The great mass of
the castle frowned down upon them, dark and forbidding. In
the dim light, she shivered Chapter twenty, a lesson in Piquet.
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Lord Dreaver, meanwhile, having left the water side, lighted a
cigarette and proceeded to make a reflective tour of the grounds.
He felt aggrieved with the world. Molly's desertion in the
canoe with Jimmy did not trouble him. He had other sorrows.
One is never at one's best and sunniest when one
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has been forced by a ruthless uncle into abandoning the
girl one loves and becoming engaged to another to whom
one is indifferent. Something of a jaundice tinge stains one's
outlook on life in such circumstances. Moreover, Lord Dreaver was
not by nature an introspective young man. But examining his
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position as he walked along, he found himself wondering whether
it was not a little unheroic. He came to the
conclusion that perhaps it was. Of course, Uncle Thomas could
make it deucedly unpleasant for him if he kicked that
was the trouble. If only he had even, say, a
couple of thousands a year of his own, he might
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make a fight for it. But dash it. Uncle Tom
could cut off supplies to such a frightful extent if
there was any trouble that he would have to go
on living at Driever indefinitely, without so much as a
fearful quid to call his own imagination boggled at the prospect.
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In the summer and autumn, when there was shooting, his
Lordship was not indisposed to a stay at the home
of his father's, but all the year round. Better a
broken heart inside the radius than a sound one in
the country in the winter. But by gad mused his Lordship,
if I had as much as a couple yes, dash it,
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even a couple of thousand a year, I'd chance it
and ask Katie to marry me. Dash it if I wouldn't.
He walked on, drawing thoughtfully at his cigarette. The more
he reviewed the situation, the less he liked it. There
was only one bright spot in it, and this was
the feeling that now money must surely get a shade
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less tight. Extracting the precious ore from Sir Thomas hitherto
had been like pulling back teeth out of a bulldog.
But now, on the strength of this infernal engagement, surely
the uncle might reasonably be expected to scatter Largesse. To
some extent, His lordship was just wondering whether, if approached
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in a softened mood, the other might not disgorge something
quite big. When a large, warm raindrop fell on his hand.
From the bushes round about came an ever increasing pattern.
The sky was leaden. He looked round him for shelter.
He had reached the rose Garden in the course of
his perambulations. At the far end was a summer house.
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He turned up his coat collar and ran. As he
drew near, he heard a slow endurge like whistling, proceeding
from the interior. Plunging in out of breath. Just as
the deluge began, he found Hargate seated at the little
wooden table with an earnest expression on his face. The
table was covered with cards. Hargate had not yet been
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compelled to sprain his wrist, having adopted the alternative of
merely refusing invitations to play billiards. Hello, Hogate said his lordship.
Isn't it coming down by jove? Hargate glanced up, nodded
without speaking, and turned his attention to the cards once more.
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He took one from the pack in his left hand,
looked at it, hesitated for a moment, as if doubtful
whereabouts on the table it would produce the most artistic effect,
and finally put it face upward. Then he moved another
card from the table and put it on top of
the other one. Throughout the performance, he whistled painfully. His
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lordship regarded his guest with annoyance. That looks frightfully exciting,
he said, disparagingly. What are you playing at? Patience? Hargate
nodded again, this time without looking up. Oh, don't sit
there looking like a frog, said Lord Daver, irritably. Talk
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man Hargate gathered up the cards and proceeded to shuffle
them in a meditative manner, whistling the while oh, stop it,
said his lordship. Hargate nodded and obediently put down the deck.
Look here, said Lord Dreaver, this is boring me, stiff.
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Let's have a game of something, anything to pass away
the time. Curse this rain. We shall be cooped up
here till dinner. At this rate, ever played piquet, I
could teach it you in five minutes. A look almost
of all came into Hargate's face, the look of one
who sees a miracle performed before his eyes. For years
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he had been using all the large stock of diplomacy
at his command to induce, callow youths to play piquet
with him, And here was this admirable young man, this
pearl among young men, positively offering to teach him the game.
It was too much happiness. What had he done to
deserve this? He felt, as a toil worn lion might
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feel if some antelope, instead of making its customary bee
line for the horizon, were to trot up and insert
its head between his jaws. I I shouldn't mind being
shown the idea, he said. He listened attentively while Lord
Dreaver explained at some length the principles that governed the
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game of piquet. Every now and then he asked a question.
It was evident that he was beginning to grasp the
idea of the game. What exactly is repequing, he asked,
as his Lordship paused. It's like this, said his Lordship,
returning to his lecture. Yes, I see now, said the neophyte.
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They began playing, Lord Dreaver, as was only to be
expected in a contest between teacher and student. Won the
first two hands. Hargate won the next. I've got the
hang of it all right now, he said, complacently. It's
a simple sort of game. Make it more exciting, don't
you think if we played for something? All right, said
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Lord Dreaver slowly, if you like, He would not have
suggested it himself, But after all, dash it. If the
man really asked for it, it was not his fault
if the winning of a hand should have given the
fellow the impression that he knew all there was to
be known about piquet. Of course, Piquet was a game
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where skill was practically bound to win. But after all,
Hargate probably had plenty of money. He could afford it,
all right, said his Lordship again, how much something fairly
moderate ten bob a hundred. There is no doubt that
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his Lordship ought at this suggestion to have corrected the
novice's notion that ten shillings a hundred was fairly moderate.
He knew that it was possible for a poor player
to lose four hundred points in a twenty minutes game,
and usually for him to lose two hundred, but he
let the thing go very well, he said. Twenty minutes later,
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Hargate was looking somewhat ruefully at the score sheet. I
owe you eighteen shillings, he said, Shall I pay you now?
Or shall we settle up in a lump after we finished?
What about stopping now, said Lord Dreaver. It's quite fine
out now, let's go on. I've nothing to do till dinner,
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and I don't suppose you have. His Lordship's conscience made
one last effort. You'd much better stop, you know, Hoggate, really,
he said, you can lose a frightful lot of this game,
My dear Dreaver, said Hargate stiffly. I can look after myself. Thanks,
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of course, if you think you are risking too much
by all means, oh, if you don't mind, said his lordship, outraged.
I'm only too frightfully pleased. Only remember I warned you,
I'll bear it in mind, by the way, before we start.
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Care to make it a sovereign a hundred. Lord Dreaver
could not afford to play piquet for a sovereign a hundred,
or indeed to play piquet for money at all. But
after his adversary's innuendo, it was impossible for a young
gentleman of spirit to admit the humiliating fact. He nodded
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about time. I fancy, said Hargate, looking at his watch
an hour later, that we were going in to dress
for dinner. His lordship made no reply. He was wrapped
in thought. Let's see, that's twenty pounds you owe me,
isn't it, continued Hargate, shocking bad luck you had. They
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went out into the rose garden. Jolly, everything smells after
the rain, said Hargate, who seemed to have struck a
conversational patch freshened everything up. His lordship did not appear
to have noticed it. He seemed to be thinking of
something else. His air was pensive and abstracted. There's just time,
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said Hargate, looking at his watch again for a short stroll.
I want to have a talk with you, oh, said
Lord Dreaver. His air did not belie his feelings. He
looked pensive and was pensive. It was deuce and awkward
this twenty pounds business. Hargate was watching him covertly. It
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was his business to know other people's business, and he
knew that Lord Dreaver was impecunious and depended for supplies
entirely on a prehensile uncle. For the success of the
proposal he was about to make, he depended on this fact.
Who is this man, Pitt, asked Hargate. Oh, pal of mine,
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said Lordship. Why I can't stand the fellow. I think
he's a good chap, said his lordship, in fact, remembering
Jimmy's good Samaritanism. I know he is. Why don't you
like him? I don't know, I don't, oh, said his
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lordship indifferently. He was in no mood to listen to
the likes and dislikes of other men. Look here, Dreaver,
said Hargate. I want you to do something for me.
I want you to get Pitt out of the place.
Lord Dreaver eyed his guest curiously. Eh, he said. Hargate
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repeated his remark. You seem to have mapped out quite
a program for me, said, Get him out of it,
continued Hargate vehemently. Jimmy's prohibition against billiards had hit him hard.
He was suffering the torments of Tantalus. The castle was
full of young men of the kind to whom he
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most resorted, easy marks every one, and here he was
simply through. Jimmy careened like a disabled battleship. It was maddening.
Make him go. You invited him here. He doesn't expect
to stop indefinitely. I suppose if you left, he'd have
to too. What you must do is to go back
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to London tomorrow. You can easily make some excuse he'll
have to go with you. Then you can drop him
in London and come back. That's what you must do.
A delicate pink flush might have been seen to spread
itself over Lord Dreaver's face. He began to look like
an angry rabbit. He had not agree great deal of
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pride in his composition, but the thought of the ignominious
roll that Hargate was sketching out for him stirred what
he had to its shallow bottom. Talking on Hargate managed
to add the last straw. Of course, he said, that
money you lost to me at Piquet, What was it?
Twenty twenty pounds? Was it? Well we will look on
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that as canceled. Of course, that would be all right.
His lordship exploded. Will it? He cried, pink to the ears?
Will it? He cried, pink to the ears? Will it?
By George, I'll pay you every frightful penny of it tomorrow,
and then you can clear out instead of pit what
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you'd take me for. I should like to know a fool.
If you refuse my offer, I've a jolly good mind
to give you most frightful kicking. I shouldn't try if
I were you. It's not the sort of game you'd
shine at. Better stick to Piquet. If you think I
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can't pay your rotten money, I do. But if you
can so much the better money is always useful. I
may be a fool in some ways. You understate it,
my dear man, but I'm not a cad. You're getting
quite rosy dreaver. Wrath is good for the complexion. And
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if you think you can bribe me, you never made
a bigger mistake in your life. Yes, I did, said Hargate,
when I thought you had some glimmerings of intelligence. But
if it gives you any pleasure to behave like the
juvenile lead in a melodrama, by all means due. Personally,
I shouldn't have thought the game would be worth the candle.
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But if your keen sense of honor compels you to
pay the twenty pounds, all right, you mention tomorrow that
will suit me, so we'll let it go at that.
He walked off, leaving Lord Dreaver filled with the comfortable
glow that comes to the weak man who for once
has displayed determination. He felt that he must not go
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back from his dignified standpoint. That money would have to
be paid and on the morrow. Hargate was the sort
of man who could and would make it exceedingly unpleasant
for him if he failed. A debt of honor was
not a thing to be trifled with. But he felt
quite safe. He knew he could get the money when
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he pleased. It showed, he reflected philosophically, how out of
evil cometh good. His greater misfortune. The engagement would, as
it were neutralized, the less, for it was ridiculous to
suppose that Sir Thomas, having seen his ends accomplished, and
being presumably in a spacious mood in consequence, would not
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be amenable to a request for a mere twenty pounds.
He went on into the hall. He felt strong and capable.
He had shown Hargate the stuff there was in him.
He was Spenny Driever, the man of blood and iron,
the man with whom it were best not to trifle.
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But it was really, come to think of it, uncommonly
lucky that he was engaged to Molly. He recoiled from
the idea of attempting, unfortified by that fact, to extract
twenty pounds from Sir Thomas for a card debt. In
the hall he met Saunders. I have been looking for
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your lordship, said the butler. Ah, well here I am
just so. Your lordship Miss mc keekin entrusted me with
this note to deliver to you in the event of
her not being able to see you before dinner personally,
Your lordship, right ho. Thanks. He started to go upstairs,
opening the envelope as he went. What could the girl
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be writing to him about? Surely she wasn't going to
start sending him love letters, or any of that frightful
rot deuce it difficult, it would be to play up
to that sort of thing. He stopped on the first
landing to read the note, and at the opening line
his jaw fell. The envelope fluttered to the ground. Oh,
(34:26):
my sainted aunt, he moaned, clutching at the banisters. Now
I am in the Soup, chapter twenty one, loathsome gifts.
There are doubtless men so constructed that they can find
themselves accepted suitors without any particular whirl of emotion. King
(34:48):
Solomon probably belonged to this class, and even Henry the
eighth must have been a trifle blase in time. But
to the average man the sensations are complex and overwhelming.
A certain stunned feeling is perhaps predominant. Blended with this
is relief, the relief of a general who has brought
(35:09):
a difficult campaign to a successful end, or of a
member of a forlorn hope who finds that the danger
is over and that he is still alive. To this
must be added a newly born sense of magnificence. Our
suspicion that we were something rather out of the ordinary
run of men is suddenly confirmed our bosom heaves with complacency,
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and the world has nothing more to offer. With some
there is an alloy of apprehension in the middle of
their happiness, and the strain of an engagement sometimes brings
with it even a faint shadow of regret. She makes
me buy things. One swain, in the third quarter of
(35:53):
his engagement, was overheard to moan to a friend two
new ties only yesterday. He seemed to be debating with
himself whether human nature could stand the strain. But whatever
tragedies may cloud the end of the period, its beginning
at least is bathed in sunshine. Jimmy, regarding his lathered
(36:17):
face in the glass as he dressed for dinner that night,
marveled at the excellence of this best of all possible worlds.
No doubts disturbed him that the relations between mister mcchachern
and himself offered a permanent bar to his prospects. He
did not believe. For the moment, he declined to consider
the existence of the ex constable at all. In a
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world that contained Mulley, there was no room for other people.
They were not in the picture. They did not exist.
To him, musing contentedly over the goodness of life there
entered in the furtive manner habitual to that unreclaimed buccaneer
Spike Mulleins. It may have been that Jimmy read his
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own satisfaction and happiness into the faces of others, but
it certainly seemed to him that there was a sort
of restrained joyousness about Spike's demeanor. The bowery boy shuffles
on the carpet were almost a dance. His face seemed
to glow beneath his crimson hair, Well, said Jimmy, And
how goes the world with young Lord fitzmullins, Spike, have
(37:25):
you ever been best man? What's that? Boss? Best man
at a wedding chap who stands by the bridegroom with
a hand on the scruff of his neck to see
that he goes through with it. Fellow who looks after everything,
crowds the money on to the minister at the end
of the ceremony, and then goes off and marries the
first bridesmaid and lives happily. Ever, Spike shook his head.
(37:50):
I ain't got no use for getting married, boss Spike,
the misogynist. You wait, Spike, some day love will awaken
your heart and you'll start writing poetry. I's not that
kind of mug, boss, protested the Bowery boy. I ain't
got no use for goyles. It's a mutts game. This
(38:13):
was rank heresy. Jimmy laid down the razor from motives
of prudence and proceeded to lighten Spike's reprehensible darkness. Spike,
you're an ass, he said. You don't know anything about it.
If you had any sense at all, you'd understand that
the only thing worth doing in life is to get married.
(38:35):
You bone headed bachelors make me sick. Think what would
mean to you having a wife. Think of going out
on a cold winter's night to crack a crib, knowing
that there would be a cup of hot soup waiting
for you when you got back, and your slippers all
warmed and comfortable. And then she'd sit on your knee,
and you'd tell her how you shot the policeman, and
(38:57):
you'd examine the swag together. Why I can't imagine anything cozier.
Perhaps there would be little Spikes running about the house.
Can't you see them jumping with joy as you slid
in through the window and told the great news FAS's killed.
A policeman, cried the tiny eager voices. Candy is served
(39:18):
out all round in honor of the event. Golden haired
little Jimmy mullins, my godson gets a dime for having
thrown a stone at a plain closed detective. That afternoon,
all is joy and wholesome revelry. Take my word for it, Spike,
There's nothing like domesticity. There was a goil, once, said
(39:39):
Spike meditatively. Only I was never her steady. She married
a kopp. She wasn't worthy of you, Spike, said Jimmy sympathetically.
A girl capable of going to the bad like that
would never have done for you. You must pick some nice,
sympathetic girl with a romantic admir for your line of business. Meanwhile,
(40:03):
let me finish shaving, or I shall be late for dinner.
Great doings on tonight, Spike. Spike became animated. Sure, boss I,
that's just what. If you could collect all the blue
blood that will be under this roof tonight, Spike, into
one vat, you'd be able to start a dying works.
Don't try it, though they mightn't like it. By the way,
(40:26):
have you seen anything more? Of course you have. What
I mean is have you talked at all with that
valet man, the one you think as a detective? Why? Boss,
that's just I hope for his own sake, he's a
better performer than my old friend Gaylor. That man is
getting on my nerve. Spike, he pursues me like a
(40:47):
smell dog. I expect he's lurking out in the passage.
Now did you see him? Did I? Boss? Why? Jimmy
inspected Spike gravely. Spike, he said, there's something on your mind.
You're trying to say something. What is it? Out with it?
(41:07):
Spike's excitement vented itself in a rush of words. Gee, Boss,
there's been doin's to night for fair me Coco still
buzzin' sure ting? Why say? When I was Sir thomas
dressing room this afternoon? What shereess ting? You know, just
before the storm come on, when it was all as
(41:30):
dark as could be? Well, I was, Jimmy interrupted in
Sir Thomas's dressing room. What the Spike looked somewhat embarrassed.
He grinned apologetically and shuffled his feet. I've got em, boss,
he said, with a smirk, got them got what Dee's
(41:54):
spike plunged a hand in a pocket and drew forth
in a glittering mass. Lady Julia Bluntun's Rope of Diamonds
end of Part seven
Part seven of The Intrusion of Jimmy by P. G. Woodhouse.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain The Intrusion
of Jimmy, Chapter nineteen on the Lake. In making Love,
as in every other branch of life, consistency is the
quality most to be aimed at. To hedge is fatal.
(00:25):
A man must choose the line of action that he
judges to be best suited to his temperament, and hold
to it without deviation. If loch Andvars snatches the maiden
up on his saddle bow, he must continue in that vein.
He must not fancy that, having accomplished the feat, he
can resume the episode on lines of devotional humility. Prehistoric
(00:48):
man who conducted his courtship with a club never fell
into the error of apologizing when his bride complained of headache.
Jimmy did not apologize. The idea did not enter his mind.
He was feeling prehistoric. His heart was beating fast, and
his mind was in a whirl. But the one definite
(01:10):
thought that came to him during the first few seconds
of the journey was that he ought to have done
this earlier. This was the right way. Pick her up
and carry her off and leave uncles and fathers and
butter haired peers of the realm to look after themselves.
This was the way, alone together in their own little
world of water, with nobody to interrupt and nobody to overhear.
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He should have done it before. He had wasted precious
golden time hanging about while futile men chattered to her
of things that could not possibly be of interest. But
he had done the right thing. At last, he had
got her. She must listen to him. Now. She could
not help listening. They were the only inhabitants of this
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new world. He looked back over his shoulder at the
world they had left. The last of the drievers had
rounded the clump of laurels and was standing at the
edge of the water, gazing perplexedly after the retreating canoe.
These poets put a thing very neatly, sometimes, said Jimmy reflectively,
as he dug the paddle into the water. The man
(02:20):
who said distance lends enchantment to the view. For instance,
dreaver looks quite nice when you see him as far
away as this, with a good strip of water in between.
Molly gazing over the side of the boat into the
lake abstained from feasting her eyes on the picturesque spectacle.
(02:41):
Why did you do it? She said in a low voice.
Jimmy shipped the paddle and allowed the canoe to drift.
The ripple of the water against the prow sounded clear
and thin. In the stillness, the world seemed asleep. The
sun blazed down, turning the water to flame. The air
was hot, with the damp electrical heat that heralds a
(03:04):
thunder storm. Molly's face looked small and cool in the
shade of her big hat. Jimmy, as he watched her,
felt that he had done well. This was indeed the way.
Why did you do it? She said again? I had
to take me back. No. He took up the paddle
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and placed a broader strip of water between the two worlds,
then paused once more. I have something to say to
you first, he said. She did not answer. He looked
over his shoulder again. His lordship had disappeared. Do you
mind if I smoke? She nodded. He filled his pipe
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carefully and lighted it. The smoke moved sluggishly up through
the still air. There was a long silence. A fish
jumped close by, falling back in a shell. Of silver drops.
Molly started at the sound and half turned. That was
a fish, she said, as a child might have done.
(04:11):
Jimmy knocked the ashes out of his pipe. What made
you do it? He asked, abruptly, echoing her own question.
She drew her fingers slowly through the water without speaking.
You know what I mean, Dreaver told me. She looked
up with a flash of spirit, which died away as
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she spoke. What right? She stopped and looked away again. None,
said Jimmy. But I wish you would tell me. She
hung her head. Jimmy bent forward and touched her hand. Don't,
he said, For God's sake, don't you mustn't? I must?
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She said, miserably. You shan't. It's wicked. I must. It's
no good talking about it. It's too late, it's not
you must break it off to day. She shook her head.
Her finger still dabbled mechanically in the water. The sun
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was hidden now behind a gray veil, which deepened into
a sullen black over the hill behind the castle. The
heat had grown more oppressive with a threat of coming storm.
What made you do it? He asked again. Don't let's
talk about it? Please? He had a momentary glimpse of
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her face. There were tears in her eyes at the sight.
His self control snapped. You shan't, he cried, It's ghastly.
I won't let you. You must understand now, you must
know what you are to me. Do you think I
shall let you? A low growl of thunder rumbled through
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the stillness, like the muttering of a sleepy giant. The
black cloud that had hung over the hill had crept closer.
The heat was stifling in the middle of the lake.
Some fifty yards distant lay the island, cool and mysterious
in the gathering darkness. Jimmy broke off and seized the paddle.
(06:20):
On this side of the island was a boat house,
a little creek covered over with boards and capable of
sheltering an ordinary rowboat. He ran the canoe in just
as the storm began, and turned her broadside on so
that they could watch the rain, which was sweeping over
the lake in sheets. He began to speak again, more slowly. Now,
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I think I loved you from the first day I
saw you on the ship, and then I lost you.
I found you again by a miracle, and lost you again.
I found you here by another miracle. But this time
I am not going to lose you. Do you think
I'm going to stand by and see you taken from
(07:02):
me by by? He took her hand. Mollie, you can't
love him. It isn't possible. If I thought you did,
I wouldn't try to spoil your happiness. I'd go away.
But you don't. You can't. He's nothing, Molly. The canoe
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rocked as he leaned toward her. Molly, she said nothing,
but for the first time her eyes met his, clear
and unwavering, he could read fear in them, fear not
of himself, of something vague, something he could not guess at.
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But they shone with a light that conquered the fear
as the sun conquers fire. And he drew her to
him and kissed her again and again, murmuring incoherently. Suddenly
she wrenched herself away, struggling like some wild thing. The
boat plunged. I can't, she cried in a choking voice.
(08:06):
I mustn't, Oh, I can't. He stretched out a hand
and clutched at the rail that ran along the wall.
The plunging ceased. He turned. She had hidden her face
and was sobbing quietly with the forlorn hopelessness of a
lost child. He made a movement toward her, but drew back.
(08:28):
He felt dazed. The rain thudded and splashed on the
wooden roof. A few drops trickled through a crack in
the boards. He took off his coat and placed it
gently over her shoulders. Mollie. She looked up with wet eyes. Mollie, dear,
what is it? I mustn't. It isn't right. I don't understand.
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I mustn't Jimmy. He moved cautiously forward, holding the rain
till he was at her side, and took her in
his arms. What is it, dear? Tell me? She clung
to him, without speaking. You aren't worried about him? Are
you about Driever? There's nothing to worry about. It'll be
(09:17):
quite easy and simple. I'll tell him if you like.
He knows you don't care for him. And besides, there's
a girl in London that he No. No, it's not that.
What is it, dear? What's troubling you? Jimmy? She stopped.
He waited, Yes, Jimmy, My father wouldn't. Father father doesn't
(09:45):
doesn't like me. She nodded. Miserably. A great wave of
relief swept over Jimmy. He had imagined. He hardly knew
what he had imagined, some vast, insuperable obstacle, some tremendous catastrophe,
whirling them asunder. He could have laughed aloud in his happiness.
(10:07):
So this was it, This was the cloud that brooded
over them. That mister mc keechorn did not like him.
The angel guarding Eden with a fiery sword had changed
into a policeman with a truncheon. He must learn to
love me, he said lightly. She looked at him hopelessly.
(10:29):
He could not see me, He could not understand, and
how could she tell him. Her father's words rang in
her brain. He was crooked, he was here on some game,
he was being watched. But she loved him, She loved him. Oh,
how could she make him understand? She clung tighter to him, trembling.
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He became serious again. Dear, you mustn't worry, he said.
It can't be helped. He'll come round once we're married. No, no, oh,
can't you understand. I couldn't. I couldn't. Jimmy's face whitened.
He looked at her anxiously, but dear, he said, you can't.
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Do you mean to say will that? He searched for
a word, stop you, he concluded, it must, she whispered.
A cold hand clutched at his heart. His world was
falling to pieces, crumbling under his eyes. But but you
(11:39):
love me, he said slowly. It was as if he
were trying to find the key to a puzzle. I
don't see you couldn't. You can't. You're a man, You
don't know. It's so different. For a man he's brought
up all his life with the idea of leaving home.
(12:01):
He goes away naturally. But dear, you couldn't live at
home all your life, whoever you married. But this would
be different. Father would never speak to me again. I
should never see him again. He would go right out
of my life. Jimmy, I couldn't. A girl can't cut
(12:23):
away twenty years of her life and start fresh like that.
I should be haunted. I should make you miserable. Every
day A hundred little things would remind me of him,
and I shouldn't be strong enough to resist them. You
don't know how fond he is of me, how good
he has always been. Ever since I can remember, we've
(12:45):
been such friends. You've only seen the outside of him,
and I know how different that is from what he
really is. All his life he has thought only of me.
He has told me things about himself which nobody else
dreams of. And I know that all these years he
has been working just for me. Jimmy, you don't hate
(13:07):
me for saying this, do you? Go on? He said,
drawing her closer to him. I can't remember my mother.
She died when I was quite little, so he and
I have been the only ones till you came. Memories
of those early days crowded her mind as she spoke,
(13:28):
making her voice tremble. Half forgotten trifles, many of them
fraught with the glamor and fragrance of past happiness. We
have always been together. He trusted me, and I trusted him,
and we saw things through together. When I was ill,
he used to sit up all night with me, night
(13:49):
after night. Once I'd only gotten a little fever, really,
but I thought I was terribly bad. I heard him
come in late and called out to him, and he
came straight in and sat and held my hand all
through the night. And it was only by accident I
found out later that it had been raining and that
(14:09):
he was soaked through it might have killed him. We
were partners, Jimmy, dear. I couldn't do anything to hurt him, now,
could I? It wouldn't be square. Jimmy had turned away
his head for fear his face might betray what he
was feeling. He was in a hell of unreasoning jealousy.
(14:30):
He wanted her body and soul and every word she
said bit like a raw wound. A moment before, he
had felt that she belonged to him. Now, in the
first shock of reaction, he saw himself a stranger, an intruder,
a trespasser on holy ground. She saw the movement, and
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her intuition put her in touch with his thoughts. No, no,
she cried, no, Jimmy not that their eyes met, and
he was satisfied. They sat there silent. The rain had
lessened in its force and was falling now in a
gentle shower. A strip of blue sky, pale and watery,
(15:14):
showed through the gray over the hills on the island.
Close behind them, A thrush had begun to sing. What
are we to do? She said? At last, what can
we do? We must wait? He said, It will all
come right, It must nothing can stop us. Now the
(15:37):
rain had ceased, the Blue had routed the gray and
driven it from the sky. The sun, low down in
the west, shone out bravely over the lake. The air
was cool and fresh. Jimmy's spirit rose with a bound.
He accepted the omen. This was the world as it
really was, smiling and friendly, not gray as he had
(16:00):
fancied it. He had won. Nothing could alter that. What
remained to be done was trivial. He wondered how he
could ever have allowed it to weigh upon him. After
a while, he pushed the boat out of its shelter,
on to the glittering water and seize the paddle. We
must be getting back, he said. I wonder what time
(16:20):
it is. I wish we could stay out forever, but
it must be late. Molly. Yes, whatever happens, you'll break
off this engagement with Driever, shall I tell him? I will?
If you like, no, I will. I'll write him a
note if I don't see him before dinner. Jimmy paddled
(16:42):
on a few strokes. It's no good, he said, suddenly,
I can't keep it in Molly. Do you mind if
I sing a bar or two? I've got a beastly voice.
But I'm feeling rather happy. I'll stop as soon as
I can. He raised his voice discordantly covertly. From beneath
(17:03):
the shade of her big hat, Molly watched him with
troubled eyes. The sun had gone down behind the hills,
and the water had ceased to glitter. There was a
suggestion of chill in the air. The great mass of
the castle frowned down upon them, dark and forbidding. In
the dim light, she shivered Chapter twenty, a lesson in Piquet.
(17:31):
Lord Dreaver, meanwhile, having left the water side, lighted a
cigarette and proceeded to make a reflective tour of the grounds.
He felt aggrieved with the world. Molly's desertion in the
canoe with Jimmy did not trouble him. He had other sorrows.
One is never at one's best and sunniest when one
(17:52):
has been forced by a ruthless uncle into abandoning the
girl one loves and becoming engaged to another to whom
one is indifferent. Something of a jaundice tinge stains one's
outlook on life in such circumstances. Moreover, Lord Dreaver was
not by nature an introspective young man. But examining his
(18:14):
position as he walked along, he found himself wondering whether
it was not a little unheroic. He came to the
conclusion that perhaps it was. Of course, Uncle Thomas could
make it deucedly unpleasant for him if he kicked that
was the trouble. If only he had even, say, a
couple of thousands a year of his own, he might
(18:36):
make a fight for it. But dash it. Uncle Tom
could cut off supplies to such a frightful extent if
there was any trouble that he would have to go
on living at Driever indefinitely, without so much as a
fearful quid to call his own imagination boggled at the prospect.
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In the summer and autumn, when there was shooting, his
Lordship was not indisposed to a stay at the home
of his father's, but all the year round. Better a
broken heart inside the radius than a sound one in
the country in the winter. But by gad mused his Lordship,
if I had as much as a couple yes, dash it,
(19:18):
even a couple of thousand a year, I'd chance it
and ask Katie to marry me. Dash it if I wouldn't.
He walked on, drawing thoughtfully at his cigarette. The more
he reviewed the situation, the less he liked it. There
was only one bright spot in it, and this was
the feeling that now money must surely get a shade
(19:40):
less tight. Extracting the precious ore from Sir Thomas hitherto
had been like pulling back teeth out of a bulldog.
But now, on the strength of this infernal engagement, surely
the uncle might reasonably be expected to scatter Largesse. To
some extent, His lordship was just wondering whether, if approached
(20:04):
in a softened mood, the other might not disgorge something
quite big. When a large, warm raindrop fell on his hand.
From the bushes round about came an ever increasing pattern.
The sky was leaden. He looked round him for shelter.
He had reached the rose Garden in the course of
his perambulations. At the far end was a summer house.
(20:26):
He turned up his coat collar and ran. As he
drew near, he heard a slow endurge like whistling, proceeding
from the interior. Plunging in out of breath. Just as
the deluge began, he found Hargate seated at the little
wooden table with an earnest expression on his face. The
table was covered with cards. Hargate had not yet been
(20:50):
compelled to sprain his wrist, having adopted the alternative of
merely refusing invitations to play billiards. Hello, Hogate said his lordship.
Isn't it coming down by jove? Hargate glanced up, nodded
without speaking, and turned his attention to the cards once more.
(21:11):
He took one from the pack in his left hand,
looked at it, hesitated for a moment, as if doubtful
whereabouts on the table it would produce the most artistic effect,
and finally put it face upward. Then he moved another
card from the table and put it on top of
the other one. Throughout the performance, he whistled painfully. His
(21:33):
lordship regarded his guest with annoyance. That looks frightfully exciting,
he said, disparagingly. What are you playing at? Patience? Hargate
nodded again, this time without looking up. Oh, don't sit
there looking like a frog, said Lord Daver, irritably. Talk
(21:53):
man Hargate gathered up the cards and proceeded to shuffle
them in a meditative manner, whistling the while oh, stop it,
said his lordship. Hargate nodded and obediently put down the deck.
Look here, said Lord Dreaver, this is boring me, stiff.
(22:14):
Let's have a game of something, anything to pass away
the time. Curse this rain. We shall be cooped up
here till dinner. At this rate, ever played piquet, I
could teach it you in five minutes. A look almost
of all came into Hargate's face, the look of one
who sees a miracle performed before his eyes. For years
(22:39):
he had been using all the large stock of diplomacy
at his command to induce, callow youths to play piquet
with him, And here was this admirable young man, this
pearl among young men, positively offering to teach him the game.
It was too much happiness. What had he done to
deserve this? He felt, as a toil worn lion might
(23:03):
feel if some antelope, instead of making its customary bee
line for the horizon, were to trot up and insert
its head between his jaws. I I shouldn't mind being
shown the idea, he said. He listened attentively while Lord
Dreaver explained at some length the principles that governed the
(23:23):
game of piquet. Every now and then he asked a question.
It was evident that he was beginning to grasp the
idea of the game. What exactly is repequing, he asked,
as his Lordship paused. It's like this, said his Lordship,
returning to his lecture. Yes, I see now, said the neophyte.
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They began playing, Lord Dreaver, as was only to be
expected in a contest between teacher and student. Won the
first two hands. Hargate won the next. I've got the
hang of it all right now, he said, complacently. It's
a simple sort of game. Make it more exciting, don't
you think if we played for something? All right, said
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Lord Dreaver slowly, if you like, He would not have
suggested it himself, But after all, dash it. If the
man really asked for it, it was not his fault
if the winning of a hand should have given the
fellow the impression that he knew all there was to
be known about piquet. Of course, Piquet was a game
(24:32):
where skill was practically bound to win. But after all,
Hargate probably had plenty of money. He could afford it,
all right, said his Lordship again, how much something fairly
moderate ten bob a hundred. There is no doubt that
(24:54):
his Lordship ought at this suggestion to have corrected the
novice's notion that ten shillings a hundred was fairly moderate.
He knew that it was possible for a poor player
to lose four hundred points in a twenty minutes game,
and usually for him to lose two hundred, but he
let the thing go very well, he said. Twenty minutes later,
(25:18):
Hargate was looking somewhat ruefully at the score sheet. I
owe you eighteen shillings, he said, Shall I pay you now?
Or shall we settle up in a lump after we finished?
What about stopping now, said Lord Dreaver. It's quite fine
out now, let's go on. I've nothing to do till dinner,
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and I don't suppose you have. His Lordship's conscience made
one last effort. You'd much better stop, you know, Hoggate, really,
he said, you can lose a frightful lot of this game,
My dear Dreaver, said Hargate stiffly. I can look after myself. Thanks,
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of course, if you think you are risking too much
by all means, oh, if you don't mind, said his lordship, outraged.
I'm only too frightfully pleased. Only remember I warned you,
I'll bear it in mind, by the way, before we start.
(26:21):
Care to make it a sovereign a hundred. Lord Dreaver
could not afford to play piquet for a sovereign a hundred,
or indeed to play piquet for money at all. But
after his adversary's innuendo, it was impossible for a young
gentleman of spirit to admit the humiliating fact. He nodded
(26:42):
about time. I fancy, said Hargate, looking at his watch
an hour later, that we were going in to dress
for dinner. His lordship made no reply. He was wrapped
in thought. Let's see, that's twenty pounds you owe me,
isn't it, continued Hargate, shocking bad luck you had. They
(27:04):
went out into the rose garden. Jolly, everything smells after
the rain, said Hargate, who seemed to have struck a
conversational patch freshened everything up. His lordship did not appear
to have noticed it. He seemed to be thinking of
something else. His air was pensive and abstracted. There's just time,
(27:27):
said Hargate, looking at his watch again for a short stroll.
I want to have a talk with you, oh, said
Lord Dreaver. His air did not belie his feelings. He
looked pensive and was pensive. It was deuce and awkward
this twenty pounds business. Hargate was watching him covertly. It
(27:50):
was his business to know other people's business, and he
knew that Lord Dreaver was impecunious and depended for supplies
entirely on a prehensile uncle. For the success of the
proposal he was about to make, he depended on this fact.
Who is this man, Pitt, asked Hargate. Oh, pal of mine,
(28:11):
said Lordship. Why I can't stand the fellow. I think
he's a good chap, said his lordship, in fact, remembering
Jimmy's good Samaritanism. I know he is. Why don't you
like him? I don't know, I don't, oh, said his
(28:31):
lordship indifferently. He was in no mood to listen to
the likes and dislikes of other men. Look here, Dreaver,
said Hargate. I want you to do something for me.
I want you to get Pitt out of the place.
Lord Dreaver eyed his guest curiously. Eh, he said. Hargate
(28:53):
repeated his remark. You seem to have mapped out quite
a program for me, said, Get him out of it,
continued Hargate vehemently. Jimmy's prohibition against billiards had hit him hard.
He was suffering the torments of Tantalus. The castle was
full of young men of the kind to whom he
(29:15):
most resorted, easy marks every one, and here he was
simply through. Jimmy careened like a disabled battleship. It was maddening.
Make him go. You invited him here. He doesn't expect
to stop indefinitely. I suppose if you left, he'd have
to too. What you must do is to go back
(29:38):
to London tomorrow. You can easily make some excuse he'll
have to go with you. Then you can drop him
in London and come back. That's what you must do.
A delicate pink flush might have been seen to spread
itself over Lord Dreaver's face. He began to look like
an angry rabbit. He had not agree great deal of
(30:00):
pride in his composition, but the thought of the ignominious
roll that Hargate was sketching out for him stirred what
he had to its shallow bottom. Talking on Hargate managed
to add the last straw. Of course, he said, that
money you lost to me at Piquet, What was it?
Twenty twenty pounds? Was it? Well we will look on
(30:23):
that as canceled. Of course, that would be all right.
His lordship exploded. Will it? He cried, pink to the ears?
Will it? He cried, pink to the ears? Will it?
By George, I'll pay you every frightful penny of it tomorrow,
and then you can clear out instead of pit what
(30:46):
you'd take me for. I should like to know a fool.
If you refuse my offer, I've a jolly good mind
to give you most frightful kicking. I shouldn't try if
I were you. It's not the sort of game you'd
shine at. Better stick to Piquet. If you think I
(31:06):
can't pay your rotten money, I do. But if you
can so much the better money is always useful. I
may be a fool in some ways. You understate it,
my dear man, but I'm not a cad. You're getting
quite rosy dreaver. Wrath is good for the complexion. And
(31:29):
if you think you can bribe me, you never made
a bigger mistake in your life. Yes, I did, said Hargate,
when I thought you had some glimmerings of intelligence. But
if it gives you any pleasure to behave like the
juvenile lead in a melodrama, by all means due. Personally,
I shouldn't have thought the game would be worth the candle.
(31:52):
But if your keen sense of honor compels you to
pay the twenty pounds, all right, you mention tomorrow that
will suit me, so we'll let it go at that.
He walked off, leaving Lord Dreaver filled with the comfortable
glow that comes to the weak man who for once
has displayed determination. He felt that he must not go
(32:16):
back from his dignified standpoint. That money would have to
be paid and on the morrow. Hargate was the sort
of man who could and would make it exceedingly unpleasant
for him if he failed. A debt of honor was
not a thing to be trifled with. But he felt
quite safe. He knew he could get the money when
(32:38):
he pleased. It showed, he reflected philosophically, how out of
evil cometh good. His greater misfortune. The engagement would, as
it were neutralized, the less, for it was ridiculous to
suppose that Sir Thomas, having seen his ends accomplished, and
being presumably in a spacious mood in consequence, would not
(33:01):
be amenable to a request for a mere twenty pounds.
He went on into the hall. He felt strong and capable.
He had shown Hargate the stuff there was in him.
He was Spenny Driever, the man of blood and iron,
the man with whom it were best not to trifle.
(33:22):
But it was really, come to think of it, uncommonly
lucky that he was engaged to Molly. He recoiled from
the idea of attempting, unfortified by that fact, to extract
twenty pounds from Sir Thomas for a card debt. In
the hall he met Saunders. I have been looking for
(33:42):
your lordship, said the butler. Ah, well here I am
just so. Your lordship Miss mc keekin entrusted me with
this note to deliver to you in the event of
her not being able to see you before dinner personally,
Your lordship, right ho. Thanks. He started to go upstairs,
opening the envelope as he went. What could the girl
(34:06):
be writing to him about? Surely she wasn't going to
start sending him love letters, or any of that frightful
rot deuce it difficult, it would be to play up
to that sort of thing. He stopped on the first
landing to read the note, and at the opening line
his jaw fell. The envelope fluttered to the ground. Oh,
(34:26):
my sainted aunt, he moaned, clutching at the banisters. Now
I am in the Soup, chapter twenty one, loathsome gifts.
There are doubtless men so constructed that they can find
themselves accepted suitors without any particular whirl of emotion. King
(34:48):
Solomon probably belonged to this class, and even Henry the
eighth must have been a trifle blase in time. But
to the average man the sensations are complex and overwhelming.
A certain stunned feeling is perhaps predominant. Blended with this
is relief, the relief of a general who has brought
(35:09):
a difficult campaign to a successful end, or of a
member of a forlorn hope who finds that the danger
is over and that he is still alive. To this
must be added a newly born sense of magnificence. Our
suspicion that we were something rather out of the ordinary
run of men is suddenly confirmed our bosom heaves with complacency,
(35:33):
and the world has nothing more to offer. With some
there is an alloy of apprehension in the middle of
their happiness, and the strain of an engagement sometimes brings
with it even a faint shadow of regret. She makes
me buy things. One swain, in the third quarter of
(35:53):
his engagement, was overheard to moan to a friend two
new ties only yesterday. He seemed to be debating with
himself whether human nature could stand the strain. But whatever
tragedies may cloud the end of the period, its beginning
at least is bathed in sunshine. Jimmy, regarding his lathered
(36:17):
face in the glass as he dressed for dinner that night,
marveled at the excellence of this best of all possible worlds.
No doubts disturbed him that the relations between mister mcchachern
and himself offered a permanent bar to his prospects. He
did not believe. For the moment, he declined to consider
the existence of the ex constable at all. In a
(36:39):
world that contained Mulley, there was no room for other people.
They were not in the picture. They did not exist.
To him, musing contentedly over the goodness of life there
entered in the furtive manner habitual to that unreclaimed buccaneer
Spike Mulleins. It may have been that Jimmy read his
(37:01):
own satisfaction and happiness into the faces of others, but
it certainly seemed to him that there was a sort
of restrained joyousness about Spike's demeanor. The bowery boy shuffles
on the carpet were almost a dance. His face seemed
to glow beneath his crimson hair, Well, said Jimmy, And
how goes the world with young Lord fitzmullins, Spike, have
(37:25):
you ever been best man? What's that? Boss? Best man
at a wedding chap who stands by the bridegroom with
a hand on the scruff of his neck to see
that he goes through with it. Fellow who looks after everything,
crowds the money on to the minister at the end
of the ceremony, and then goes off and marries the
first bridesmaid and lives happily. Ever, Spike shook his head.
(37:50):
I ain't got no use for getting married, boss Spike,
the misogynist. You wait, Spike, some day love will awaken
your heart and you'll start writing poetry. I's not that
kind of mug, boss, protested the Bowery boy. I ain't
got no use for goyles. It's a mutts game. This
(38:13):
was rank heresy. Jimmy laid down the razor from motives
of prudence and proceeded to lighten Spike's reprehensible darkness. Spike,
you're an ass, he said. You don't know anything about it.
If you had any sense at all, you'd understand that
the only thing worth doing in life is to get married.
(38:35):
You bone headed bachelors make me sick. Think what would
mean to you having a wife. Think of going out
on a cold winter's night to crack a crib, knowing
that there would be a cup of hot soup waiting
for you when you got back, and your slippers all
warmed and comfortable. And then she'd sit on your knee,
and you'd tell her how you shot the policeman, and
(38:57):
you'd examine the swag together. Why I can't imagine anything cozier.
Perhaps there would be little Spikes running about the house.
Can't you see them jumping with joy as you slid
in through the window and told the great news FAS's killed.
A policeman, cried the tiny eager voices. Candy is served
(39:18):
out all round in honor of the event. Golden haired
little Jimmy mullins, my godson gets a dime for having
thrown a stone at a plain closed detective. That afternoon,
all is joy and wholesome revelry. Take my word for it, Spike,
There's nothing like domesticity. There was a goil, once, said
(39:39):
Spike meditatively. Only I was never her steady. She married
a kopp. She wasn't worthy of you, Spike, said Jimmy sympathetically.
A girl capable of going to the bad like that
would never have done for you. You must pick some nice,
sympathetic girl with a romantic admir for your line of business. Meanwhile,
(40:03):
let me finish shaving, or I shall be late for dinner.
Great doings on tonight, Spike. Spike became animated. Sure, boss I,
that's just what. If you could collect all the blue
blood that will be under this roof tonight, Spike, into
one vat, you'd be able to start a dying works.
Don't try it, though they mightn't like it. By the way,
(40:26):
have you seen anything more? Of course you have. What
I mean is have you talked at all with that
valet man, the one you think as a detective? Why? Boss,
that's just I hope for his own sake, he's a
better performer than my old friend Gaylor. That man is
getting on my nerve. Spike, he pursues me like a
(40:47):
smell dog. I expect he's lurking out in the passage.
Now did you see him? Did I? Boss? Why? Jimmy
inspected Spike gravely. Spike, he said, there's something on your mind.
You're trying to say something. What is it? Out with it?
(41:07):
Spike's excitement vented itself in a rush of words. Gee, Boss,
there's been doin's to night for fair me Coco still
buzzin' sure ting? Why say? When I was Sir thomas
dressing room this afternoon? What shereess ting? You know, just
before the storm come on, when it was all as
(41:30):
dark as could be? Well, I was, Jimmy interrupted in
Sir Thomas's dressing room. What the Spike looked somewhat embarrassed.
He grinned apologetically and shuffled his feet. I've got em, boss,
he said, with a smirk, got them got what Dee's
(41:54):
spike plunged a hand in a pocket and drew forth
in a glittering mass. Lady Julia Bluntun's Rope of Diamonds
end of Part seven
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