Jeeves Stories by P. G. Wodehouse (best ereader for pdf and epub .TXT) 📕

ahead of him; and there was a painful scene when the latter came back from Hurst Park. I could hear them talking half the night, long after I had tottered off to bed. I don’t know when I’ve met fellows who could do with less sleep than those two.

After this, things became a bit strained at the flat owing to Claude and Eustace not being on speaking terms. I’m all for a certain chumminess in the home, and it was wearing to have to live with two fellows who wouldn’t admit that the other one was on the map at all.

One felt the thing couldn’t go on like that for long, and, by Jove, it didn’t. But, if anyone had come to me the day before and told me what was going to happen, I should simply have smiled wanly. I mean, I’d got so accustomed to thinking that nothing short of a dynamite explosion could ever dislodge those two nestlers from my midst that, when Claude sidled up to me on the Friday morning and told me his bit of news, I could hardly believe I was hearing right.

“Bertie,” he said, “I’ve been thinking it over.”

“What over?” I said.

“The whole thing. This business of staying in London when I ought to be in South Africa. It isn’t fair,” said Claude warmly. “It isn’t right. And the long and the short of it is, Bertie, old man, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

I reeled in my tracks.

“You are?” I gasped.

“Yes. If,” said Claude, “you won’t mind sending old Jeeves out to buy a ticket for me. I’m afraid I’ll have to stick you for the passage money, old man. You don’t mind?”

“Mind!” I said, clutching his hand fervently.

“That’s all right, then. Oh, I say, you won’t say a word to Eustace about this, will you?”

“But isn’t he going, too?”

Claude shuddered.

“No, thank heaven! The idea of being cooped up on board a ship with that blighter gives me the pip just to think of it. No, not a word to Eustace. I say, I suppose you can get me a berth all right at such short notice?”

“Rather!” I said. Sooner than let this opportunity slip, I would have bought the bally boat.

“Jeeves,” I said, breezing into the kitchen. “Go out on first speed to the Union-Castle offices and book a berth on tomorrow’s boat for Mr. Claude. He is leaving us, Jeeves.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Claude does not wish any mention of this to be made to Mr. Eustace.”

“No, sir. Mr. Eustace made the same proviso when he desired me to obtain a berth on tomorrow’s boat for himself.”

I gaped at the man.

“Is he going, too?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is rummy.”

“Yes, sir.”

Had circumstances been other than they were, I would at this juncture have unbent considerably towards Jeeves. Frisked round him a bit and whooped to a certain extent, and whatnot. But those spats still formed a barrier, and I regret to say that I took the opportunity of rather rubbing it in a bit on the man. I mean, he’d been so dashed aloof and unsympathetic, though perfectly aware that the young master was in the soup and that it was up to him to rally round, that I couldn’t help pointing out how the happy ending had been snaffled without any help from him.

“So that’s that, Jeeves,” I said. “The episode is concluded. I knew things would sort themselves out if one gave them time and didn’t get rattled. Many chaps in my place would have got rattled, Jeeves.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Gone rushing about, I mean, asking people for help and advice and so forth.”

“Very possibly, sir.”

“But not me, Jeeves.”

“No, sir.”

I left him to brood on it.

Even the thought that I’d got to go to Harrogate with Uncle George couldn’t depress me that Saturday when I gazed about the old flat and realised that Claude and Eustace weren’t in it. They had slunk off stealthily and separately immediately after breakfast, Eustace to catch the boat-train at Waterloo, Claude to go round to the garage where I kept my car. I didn’t want any chance of the two meeting at Waterloo and changing their minds, so I had suggested to Claude that he might find it pleasanter to drive down to Southampton.

I was lying back on the old settee, gazing peacefully up at the flies on the ceiling and feeling what a wonderful world this was, when Jeeves came in with a letter.

“A messenger-boy has brought this, sir.”

I opened the envelope, and the first thing that fell out was a five-pound note.

“Great Scott!” I said. “What’s all this?”

The letter was scribbled in pencil, and was quite brief:

“Dear Bertie⁠—Will you give enclosed to your man, and tell him I wish I could make it more. He has saved my life. This is the first happy day I’ve had for a week.

Yours,

M. W.

Jeeves was standing holding out the fiver, which had fluttered to the floor.

“You’d better stick to it,” I said. “It seems to be for you.”

“Sir?”

“I say that fiver is for you, apparently. Miss Wardour sent it.”

“That was extremely kind of her, sir.”

“What the dickens is she sending you fivers for? She says you saved her life.”

Jeeves smiled gently.

“She overestimates my services, sir.”

“But what were your services, dash it?”

“It was in the matter of Mr. Claude and Mr. Eustace, sir. I was hoping that she would not refer to the matter, as I did not wish you to think that I had been taking a liberty.”

“What do you mean?”

“I chanced to be in the room while Miss Wardour was complaining with some warmth of the manner in which Mr. Claude and Mr. Eustace were thrusting their society upon her. I felt that in the circumstances it might be excusable if I suggested a slight ruse to enable her to dispense with their attentions.”

“Good Lord! You don’t mean to say you were at the bottom of their popping off, after all!”

Silly ass it made me feel. I mean, after rubbing it in to him like that about having clicked without his assistance.

“It occurred to