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

Peters Was Offering A Reward. He Couldn't Have Known That Lord

Emsworth Had Not Got The Scarab Quite Properly. He Couldn't Have

Known--He Couldn't Have Known Anything!"

Ashe's Enthusiasm Was A Trifle Damped.

"There's Something In That. But--I Have It! Jones Must Have Known

About The Scarab And Told Him."

"But How Could He Have Known?"

"Yes; There's Something In That,  Too. How Could Jones Have

Known?"

"He Couldn't. He Had Gone By The Time Aline Came That Night."

"I Don't Quite Understand. Which Night?"

"It Was The Night Of The Day I First Met You. I Was Wondering For

A Moment Whether He Could By Any Chance Have Overheard Aline

Telling Me About The Scarab And The Reward Mr. Peters Was

Offering For It."

"Overheard! That Word Is Like A Bugle Blast To Me. Nine Out Of

Ten Of Gridley Quayle's Triumphs Were Due To His Having Overheard

Something. I Think We Are Now On The Right Track."

"I Don't. How Could He Have Overheard Us? The Door Was Closed And

He Was In The Street By That Time."

"How Do You Know He Was In The Street? Did You See Him Out?"

"No; But He Went."

"He Might Have Waited On The Stairs--You Remember How Dark They

Are At Number Seven--And Listened."

"Why?"

Ashe Reflected.

"Why? Why? What A Beast Of A Word That Is--The Detective's

Bugbear. I Thought I Had It,  Until You Said--Great Scott! I'll

Tell You Why. I See It All. I Have Him With The Goods. His Object

In Coming To See You About The Letters Was Because Freddie Wanted

Them Back Owing To His Approaching Marriage With Miss

Peters--Wasn't It?"

"Yes."

"You Tell Him You Have Destroyed The Letters. He Goes Off. Am I

Right?"

"Yes."

"Before He Is Out Of The House Miss Peters Is Giving Her Name At

The Front Door. Put Yourself In Jones' Place. What Does He Think?

He Is Suspicious. He Thinks There Is Some Game On. He Skips

Upstairs Again,  Waits Until Miss Peters Has Gone Into Your Room,

Then Stands Outside And Listens. How About That?"

"I Do Believe You Are Right. He Might Quite Easily Have Done

That."

"He Did Do Exactly That. I Know It As Though I Had Been There; In

Fact,  It Is Highly Probable I Was There. You Say All This

Happened On The Night We First Met? I Remember Coming Downstairs

That Night--I Was Going Out To A Vaudeville Show--And Hearing

Voices In Your Room. I Remember It Distinctly. In All Probability

I Nearly Ran Into Jones."

"It Does All Seem To Fit In,  Doesn't It?"

"It's A Clear Case. There Isn't A Flaw In It. The Only Question

Is,  Can I,  On The Evidence,  Go To Young Freddie And Choke The

Scarab Out Of Him? On The Whole,  I Think I Had Better Take This

Note To Jones,  As I Promised Judson,  And See Whether I Can't Work

Something Through Him. Yes; That's The Best Plan. I'll Be

Starting At Once."

Perhaps The Greatest Hardship In Being An Invalid Is The Fact

That People Come And See You And Keep Your Spirits Up. The

Honorable Freddie Threepwood Suffered Extremely From This. His

Was Not A Gregarious Nature And It Fatigued His Limited Brain

Powers To Have To Find Conversation For His Numerous Visitors.

All He Wanted Was To Be Left Alone To Read The Adventures Of

Gridley Quayle,  And When Tired Of Doing That To Lie On His Back

And Look At The Ceiling And Think Of Nothing.

It Is Your Dynamic Person,  Your Energetic World's Worker,  Who

Chafes At Being Laid Up With A Sprained Ankle. The Honorable

Freddie Enjoyed It. From Boyhood Up He Had Loved Lying In Bed;

And Now That Fate Had Allowed Him To Do This Without Incurring

Rebuke He Objected To Having His Reveries Broken Up By Officious

Relations.

He Spent His Rare Intervals Of Solitude In Trying To Decide In

His Mind Which Of His Cousins,  Uncles And Aunts Was,  All Things

Considered,  The Greatest Nuisance. Sometimes He Would Give The

Palm To Colonel Horace Mant,  Who Struck The Soldierly Note--"I

Recollect In A Hill Campaign In The Winter Of The Year '93 Giving

My Ankle The Deuce Of A Twist." Anon The More Spiritual Attitude

Of The Bishop Of Godalming Seemed To Annoy Him More Keenly.

Sometimes He Would Head The List With The Name Of His Cousin

Percy--Lord Stockheath--Who Refused To Talk Of Anything Except

His Late Breach-Of-Promise Case And The Effect The Verdict Had

Had On His Old Governor. Freddie Was In No Mood Just Now To Be

Sympathetic With Others On Their Breach-Of-Promise Cases.

As He Lay In Bed Reading On Monday Morning,  The Only Flaw In His

Enjoyment Of This Unaccustomed Solitude Was The Thought That

Presently The Door Was Bound To Open And Some Kind Inquirer

Insinuate Himself Into The Room.

His Apprehensions Proved Well Founded. Scarcely Had He Got Well

Into The Details Of An Ingenious Plot On The Part Of A Secret

Society To Eliminate Gridley Quayle By Bribing His Cook--A Bad

Lot--To Sprinkle Chopped-Up Horsehair In His Chicken Fricassee,

When The Door-Knob Turned And Ashe Marson Came In.

Freddie Was Not The Only Person Who Had Found The Influx Of

Visitors Into The Sick Room A Source Of Irritation. The Fact That

The Invalid Seemed Unable To Get A Moment To Himself Had Annoyed

Ashe Considerably. For Some Little Time He Had Hung About The

Passage In Which Freddie's Room Was Situated,  Full Of Enterprise,

But Unable To Make A Forward Move Owing To The Throng Of

Sympathizers. What He Had To Say To The Sufferer Could Not Be

Said In The Presence Of A Third Party.

Freddie's Sensation,  On Perceiving Him,  Was One Of Relief. He Had

Been Half Afraid It Was The Bishop. He Recognized Ashe As The

Valet Chappie Who Had Helped Him To Bed On The Occasion Of His

Accident. It Might Be That He Had Come In A Respectful Way To

Make Inquiries,  But He Was Not Likely To Stop Long. He Nodded And

Went On Reading. And Then,  Glancing Up,  He Perceived Ashe

Standing Beside The Bed,  Fixing Him With A Piercing Stare.

The Honorable Freddie Hated Piercing Stares. One Of The Reasons

Why He Objected To Being Left Alone With His Future

Father-In-Law,  Mr. J. Preston Peters,  Was That Nature Had Given

The Millionaire A Penetrating Pair Of Eyes,  And The Stress Of

Business Life In New York Had Developed In Him A Habit Of Boring

Holes In People With Them. A Young Man Had To Have A Stronger

Nerve And A Clearer Conscience Than The Honorable Freddie To

Enjoy A Tete-A-Tete With Mr. Peters.

Though He Accepted Aline's Father As A Necessary Evil And

Recognized That His Position Entitled Him To Look At People As

Sharply As He Liked,  Whatever Their Feelings,  He Would Be Hanged

If He Was Going To Extend This Privilege To Mr. Peters' Valet.

This Man Standing Beside Him Was Giving Him A Look That Seemed To

His Sensitive Imagination To Have Been Fired Red-Hot From A Gun;

And This Annoyed And Exasperated Freddie.

"What Do You Want?" He Said Querulously. "What Are You Staring At

Me Like That For?"

Ashe Sat Down,  Leaned His Elbows On The Bed,  And Applied The Look

Again From A Lower Elevation.

"Ah!" He Said.

Whatever May Have Been Ashe's Defects,  So Far As The Handling Of

The Inductive-Reasoning Side Of Gridley Quayle's Character Was

Concerned,  There Was One Scene In Each Of His Stories In Which He

Never Failed. That Was The Scene In The Last Chapter Where

Quayle,  Confronting His Quarry,  Unmasked Him. Quayle Might Have

Floundered In The Earlier Part Of The Story,  But In His Big Scene

He Was Exactly Right. He Was Curt,  Crisp And Mercilessly

Compelling.

Ashe,  Rehearsing This Interview In The Passage Before His Entry,

Had Decided That He Could Hardly Do Better Than Model Himself On

The Detective. So He Began To Be Curt,  Crisp And Mercilessly

Compelling To Freddie; And After The First Few Sentences He Had

That Youth Gasping For Air.

"I Will Tell You," He Said. "If You Can Spare Me A Few Moments Of

Your Valuable Time I Will Put The Facts Before You. Yes; Press

That Bell If You Wish--And I Will Put Them Before Witnesses. Lord

Emsworth Will No Doubt Be Pleased To Learn That His Son,  Whom He

Trusted,  Is A Thief!"

Freddie's Hand Fell Limply. The Bell Remained Un-Touched. His

Mouth Opened To Its Fullest Extent. In The Midst Of His Panic He

Had A Curious Feeling That He Had Heard Or Read That Last

Sentence Somewhere Before. Then He Remembered. Those Very Words

Occurred In Gridley Quayle,  Investigator--The Adventure Of The

Blue Ruby.

"What--What Do You Mean?" He Stammered.

"I Will Tell You What I Mean. On Saturday Night A Valuable Scarab

Was Stolen From Lord Emsworth's Private Museum. The Case Was Put

Into My Hands----"

"Great Scott! Are You A Detective?"

"Ah!" Said Ashe.

Life,  As Many A Worthy Writer Has Pointed Out,  Is Full Of

Ironies. It Seemed To Freddie That Here Was A Supreme Example Of

This Fact. All These Years He Had Wanted To Meet A Detective; And

Now That His Wish Had Been Gratified The Detective Was Detecting

Him!

"The Case," Continued Ashe Severely,  "Was Placed In My Hands. I

Investigated It. I Discovered That You Were In Urgent And

Immediate Need Of Money."

"How On Earth Did You Do That?"

"Ah!" Said Ashe. "I Further Discovered That You Were In

Communication With An Individual Named Jones."

"Good Lord! How?"

Ashe Smiled Quietly.

"Yesterday I Had A Talk With This Man Jones,  Who Is Staying In

Market Blandings. Why Is He Staying In Market Blandings? Because

He Had A Reason For Keeping In Touch With You; Because You Were

About To Transfer To His