Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (best memoirs of all time TXT) 📕

This Means,  Mr. Marson. Between Us We Have Lost Ten Thousand

Dollars In A Single Night. I Can't Afford It. It Is Like Losing A

Legacy. I Absolutely Refuse To Give In Without An Effort And Go

Back To Writing Duke-And-Earl Stories For Home Gossip."

"The Prospect Of Tackling Gridley Quayle Again--"

"Why,  I Was Forgetting That You Were A Writer Of Detective

Stories. You Ought To Be Able To Solve This Mystery In A Moment.

Ask Yourself,  'What Would Gridley Quayle Have Done?'"

"I Can Answer That. Gridley Quayle Would Have Waited Helplessly

For Some Coincidence To Happen To Help Him Out."

"Had He No Methods?"

"He Was Full Of Methods; But They Never Led Him Anywhere Without

The Coincidence. However,  We Might Try To Figure It Out. What

Time Did You Get To The Museum?"

"One O'clock."

"And You Found The Scarab Gone. What Does That Suggest To You?"

"Nothing. What Does It Suggest To You?"

"Absolutely Nothing. Let Us Try Again. Whoever Took The Scarab

Must Have Had Special Information That Peters Was Offering The

Reward."

"Then Why Hasn't He Been To Mr. Peters And Claimed It?"

"True! That Would Seem To Be A Flaw In The Reasoning. Once Again:

Whoever Took It Must Have Been In Urgent And Immediate Need Of

Money."

"And How Are We To Find Out Who Was In Urgent And Immediate Need

Of Money?"

"Exactly! How Indeed?"

There Was A Pause.

"I Should Think Your Mr. Quayle Must Have Been A Great Comfort To

His Clients,  Wasn't He?" Said Joan.

"Inductive Reasoning,  I Admit,  Seems To Have Fallen Down To A

Certain Extent," Said Ashe. "We Must Wait For The Coincidence. I

Have A Feeling That It Will Come." He Paused. "I Am Very

Fortunate In The Way Of Coincidences."

"Are You?"

Ashe Looked About Him And Was Relieved To Find That They Appeared

To Be Out Of Earshot Of Their Species. It Was Not Easy To Achieve

This Position At The Castle If You Happened To Be There As A

Domestic Servant. The Space Provided For The Ladies And Gentlemen

Attached To The Guests Was Limited,  And It Was Rarely That You

Could Enjoy A Stroll Without Bumping Into A Maid,  A Valet Or A

Footman; But Now They Appeared To Be Alone. The Drive Leading To

The Back Regions Of The Castle Was Empty. As Far As The Eye Could

Reach There Were No Signs Of Servants--Upper Or Lower.

Nevertheless,  Ashe Lowered His Voice.

"Was It Not A Strange Coincidence," He Said,  "That You Should

Have Come Into My Life At All?"

"Not Very," Said Joan Prosaically. "It Was Quite Likely That We

Should Meet Sooner Or Later,  As We Lived On Different Floors Of

The Same House."

"It Was A Coincidence That You Should Have Taken That Room."

"Why?"

Ashe Felt Damped. Logically,  No Doubt,  She Was Right; But Surely

She Might Have Helped Him Out A Little In This Difficult

Situation. Surely Her Woman's Intuition Should Have Told Her That

A Man Who Has Been Speaking In A Loud And Cheerful Voice Does

Not Lower It To A Husky Whisper Without Some Reason. The

Hopelessness Of His Task Began To Weigh On Him.

Ever Since That Evening At Market Blandings Station,  When He

Realized That He Loved Her,  He Had Been Trying To Find An

Opportunity To Tell Her So; And Every Time They Had Met,  The Talk

Had Seemed To Be Drawn Irresistibly Into Practical And

Unsentimental Channels. And Now,  When He Was Doing His Best To

Reason It Out That They Were Twin Souls Who Had Been Brought

Together By A Destiny It Would Be Foolish To Struggle Against;

When He Was Trying To Convey The Impression That Fate Had Designed

Them For Each Other--She Said,  "Why?" It Was Hard.

He Was About To Go Deeper Into The Matter When,  From The

Direction Of The Castle,  He Perceived The Honorable Freddie's

Valet--Mr. Judson--Approaching. That It Was This Repellent Young

Man's Object To Break In On Them And Rob Him Of His One Small

Chance Of Inducing Joan To Appreciate,  As He Did,  The Mysterious

Workings Of Providence As They Affected Herself And Him,  Was

Obvious. There Was No Mistaking The Valet's Desire For

Conversation. He Had The Air Of One Brimming Over With Speech.

His Wonted Indolence Was Cast Aside; And As He Drew Nearer He

Positively Ran. He Was Talking Before He Reached Them.

"Miss Simpson,  Mr. Marson,  It's True--What I Said That Night.

It's A Fact!"

Ashe Regarded The Intruder With A Malevolent Eye. Never Fond Of

Mr. Judson,  He Looked On Him Now With Positive Loathing. It Had

Not Been Easy For Him To Work Himself Up To The Point Where He

Could Discuss With Joan The Mysterious Ways Of Providence,  For

There Was That About Her Which Made It Hard To Achieve Sentiment.

That Indefinable Something In Joan Valentine Which Made For

Nocturnal Raids On Other People's Museums Also Rendered Her A

Somewhat Difficult Person To Talk To About Twin Souls And

Destiny. The Qualities That Ashe Loved In Her--Her Strength,  Her

Capability,  Her Valiant Self-Sufficingness--Were The Very

Qualities Which Seemed To Check Him When He Tried To Tell Her

That He Loved Them.

Mr. Judson Was Still Babbling.

"It's True. There Ain't A Doubt Of It Now. It's Been And Happened

Just As I Said That Night."

"What Did You Say? Which Night?" Inquired Ashe.

"That Night At Dinner--The First Night You Two Came Here. Don't

You Remember Me Talking About Freddie And The Girl He Used To

Write Letters To In London--The Girl I Said Was So Like You,  Miss

Simpson? What Was Her Name Again? Joan Valentine. That Was It.

The Girl At The Theater That Freddie Used To Send Me With Letters

To Pretty Nearly Every Evening. Well,  She's Been And Done It,

Same As I Told You All That Night She Was Jolly Likely To Go And

Do. She's Sticking Young Freddie Up For His Letters,  Just As He

Ought To Have Known She Would Do If He Hadn't Been A Young

Fathead. They're All Alike,  These Girls--Every One Of Them."

Mr. Judson Paused,  Subjected The Surrounding Scenery To A

Cautious Scrutiny And Resumed.

"I Took A Suit Of Freddie's Clothes Away To Brush Just Now; And

Happening"--Mr. Judson Paused And Gave A Little Cough--"Happening

To Glance At The Contents Of His Pockets I Come Across A Letter.

I Took A Sort Of Look At It Before Setting It Aside,  And It Was

From A Fellow Named Jones; And It Said That This Girl,  Valentine,

Was Sticking Onto Young Freddie's Letters What He'd Written Her,

And Would See Him Blowed If She Parted With Them Under Another

Thousand. And,  As I Made It Out,  Freddie Had Already Given Her

Five Hundred.

"Where He Got It Is More Than I Can Understand; But That's What

The Letter Said. This Fellow Jones Said He Had Passed It To Her

With His Own Hands; But She Wasn't Satisfied,  And If She Didn't

Get The Other Thousand She Was Going To Bring An Action For

Breach. And Now Freddie Has Given Me A Note To Take To This

Jones,  Who Is Stopping In Market Blandings."

Joan Had Listened To This Remarkable Speech With A Stunned

Amazement. At This Point She Made Her First Comment:

"But That Can't Be True."

"Saw The Letter With My Own Eyes,  Miss Simpson."

"But----"

She Looked At Ashe Helplessly. Their Eyes Met--Hers Wide With

Perplexity,  His Bright With The Light Of Comprehension.

"It Shows," Said Ashe Slowly,  "That He Was In Immediate And

Urgent Need Of Money."

"You Bet It Does," Said Mr. Judson With Relish. "It Looks To Me

As Though Young Freddie Had About Reached The End Of His Tether

This Time. My Word! There Won't Half Be A Kick-Up If She Does Sue

Him For Breach! I'm Off To Tell Mr. Beach And The Rest. They'll

Jump Out Of Their Skins." His Face Fell. "Oh,  Lord,  I Was

Forgetting This Note. He Told Me To Take It At Once."

"I'll Take It For You," Said Ashe. "I'm Not Doing Anything."

Mr. Judson's Gratitude Was Effusive.

"You're A Good Fellow,  Marson," He Said. "I'll Do As Much For You

Another Time. I Couldn't Hardly Bear Not To Tell A Bit Of News

Like This Right Away. I Should Burst Or Something."

And Mr. Judson,  With Shining Face,  Hurried Off To The

Housekeeper's Room.

"I Simply Can't Understand It," Said Joan At Length. "My Head Is

Going Round."

"Can't Understand It? Why,  It's Perfectly Clear. This Is The

Coincidence For Which,  In My Capacity Of Gridley Quayle,  I Was

Waiting. I Can Now Resume Inductive Reasoning. Weighing The

Evidence,  What Do We Find? That Young Sweep,  Freddie,  Is The Man.

He Has The Scarab."

"But It's All Such A Muddle. I'm Not Holding His Letters."

"For Jones' Purposes You Are. Let's Get This Jones Element In The

Affair Straightened Out. What Do You Know Of Him?"

"He Was An Enormously Fat Man Who Came To See Me One Night And

Said He Had Been Sent To Get Back Some Letters. I Told Him I Had

Destroyed Them Ages Ago And He Went Away."

"Well,  That Part Of It Is Clear,  Then. He Is Working A Simple But

Ingenious Game On Freddie. It Wouldn't Succeed With Everybody,  I

Suppose; But From What I Have Seen And Heard Of Him Freddie Isn't

Strong On Intellect. He Seems To Have Accepted The Story Without

A Murmur. What Does He Do? He Has To Raise A Thousand Pounds

Immediately,  And The Raising Of The First Five Hundred Has

Exhausted His Credit. He Gets The Idea Of Stealing The Scarab!"

"But Why? Why Should He Have Thought Of The Scarab At All? That

Is What I Can't Understand. He Couldn't Have Meant To Give It To

Mr. Peters And Claim The Reward. He