Piccadilly Jim by P. G. Wodehouse (most motivational books TXT) 📕

her that you are Jimmy Crocker and that I am a crook and that you only pretended to recognise me for reasons of your own?”

“Just that.”

“Forget it!” Lord Wisbeach had forgotten to be alarmed in his amusement. He smiled broadly. “I’m not saying it’s not good stuff to pull, but it’s old stuff now. I’m sorry for you, but I thought of it before you did. I went to Mrs. Pett directly after lunch and sprang that line of talk myself. Do you think she’ll believe you after that? I tell you I’m ace-high with that dame. You can’t queer me with her.”

“I think I can. For the simple reason that I really am Jimmy Crocker.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Exactly. Yes, I am.”

Lord Wisbeach smiled tolerantly.

“It was worth trying the bluff, I guess, but it won’t work. I know you’d be glad to get me out of this house, but you’ve got to make a better play than that to do it.”

“Don’t deceive yourself with the idea that I’m bluffing. Look here.” He suddenly removed his coat and threw it to Lord Wisbeach. “Read the tailor’s label inside the pocket. See the name. Also the address. ‘J. Crocker. Drexdale House. Grosvenor Square. London.’ ”

Lord Wisbeach picked up the garment and looked as directed. His face turned a little sallower, but he still fought against his growing conviction.

“That’s no proof.”

“Perhaps not. But, when you consider the reputation of the tailor whose name is on the label, it’s hardly likely that he would be standing in with an impostor, is it? If you want real proof, I have no doubt that there are half a dozen men working on the Chronicle who can identify me. Or are you convinced already?”

Lord Wisbeach capitulated.

“I don’t know what fool game you think you’re playing, but I can’t see why you couldn’t have told me this when we were talking after lunch.”

“Never mind. I had my reasons. They don’t matter. What matters is that you are going to get out of here tomorrow. Do you understand that?”

“I get you.”

“Then that’s about all, I think. Don’t let me keep you.”

“Say, listen.” Gentleman Jack’s voice was plaintive. “I think you might give a fellow a chance to get out good. Give me time to have a guy in Montreal send me a telegram telling me to go up there right away. Otherwise you might just as well put the cops on me at once. The old lady knows I’ve got business in Canada. You don’t need to be rough on a fellow.”

Jimmy pondered this point.

“All right. I don’t object to that.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t start anything, though.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Jimmy pointed to the safe.

“Come, come, friend of my youth. We have no secrets from each other. I know you’re after what’s in there, and you know that I know. I don’t want to harp on it, but you’ll be spending tonight in the house, and I think you had better make up your mind to spend it in your room, getting a nice sleep to prepare you for your journey. Do you follow me, old friend?”

“I get you.”

“That will be all then, I think. Wind a smile around your neck and recede.”

The door slammed. Lord Wisbeach had restrained his feelings successfully during the interview, but he could not deny himself that slight expression of them. Jimmy crossed the room and took his coat from the chair where the other had dropped it. As he did so a voice spoke.

“Say!”

Jimmy spun round. The room was apparently empty. The thing was beginning to assume an uncanny aspect, when the voice spoke again.

“You think you’re darned funny, don’t you?”

It came from above. Jimmy had forgotten the gallery. He directed his gaze thither, and perceived the heavy face of Ogden hanging over the rail like a gargoyle.

“What are you doing there?” he demanded.

“Listening.”

“How did you get there?”

“There’s a door back here that you get to from the stairs. I often come here for a quiet cigarette. Say, you think yourself some josher, don’t you, telling me you were a kidnapper! You strung me like an onion. So you’re really Jimmy Crocker after all? Where was the sense in pulling all that stuff about taking me away and divvying up the ransom? Aw, you make me tired!”

The head was withdrawn, and Jimmy heard heavy steps followed by the banging of a door. Peace reigned in the library.

Jimmy sat down in the chair which was Mr. Pett’s favourite and which Ogden was accustomed to occupy to that gentleman’s displeasure. The swiftness of recent events had left him a little dizzy, and he desired to think matters over and find out exactly what had happened.

The only point which appeared absolutely clear to him in a welter of confusing occurrences was the fact that he had lost the chance of kidnapping Ogden. Everything had arranged itself so beautifully simply and conveniently as regarded that venture until a moment ago; but now that the boy had discovered his identity it was impossible for him to attempt it. He was loth to accept this fact. Surely, even now, there was a way.⁠ ⁠…

Quite suddenly an admirable plan occurred to him. It involved the cooperation of his father. And at that thought he realised with a start that life had been moving so rapidly for him since his return to the house that he had not paid any attention at all to what was really as amazing a mystery as any. He had been too busy to wonder why his father was there.

He debated the best method of getting in touch with him. It was out of the question to descend to the pantry or wherever it was that his father lived in this new incarnation of his. Then the happy thought struck him that results might be obtained by the simple process of ringing the bell. It might produce some other unit of the domestic staff. However, it was worth trying. He rang the bell.

A few moments later the door opened. Jimmy looked