Читать книгу Дживс, вы – гений! / Thank you, Jeeves! - Пелам Гренвилл Вудхаус, Pelham Grenville Wodehouse - Страница 7

Jeeves returned with the sandwiches.

“So, Jeeves, did hear anything?”

“Yes, sir. Mr Stoker was inviting all those present to a party on his yacht.”

“What party?”

“It appears that it is Master Dwight Stoker’s birthday tomorrow, sir. The party, I gathered, was to be in celebration of the event.”

“And was the suggestion well received?”

“Extremely, sir. But Master Seabury did not like Master Dwight’s arrogant assertion that this was the first time that Master Seabury had ever seen a yacht.”

“What did he say?”

“He retorted that he had been on millions of yachts. Indeed, if I am not mistaken, trillions was the word he employed.”

“And then?”

“Master Dwight was sceptical concerning this claim. But at this moment Mr Stoker announced his intention of hiring the troupe of negro minstrels to perform at the party.”

“And that went well?”

“Very well, indeed, sir. Except that Master Seabury said that he was sure Master Dwight had never heard negro minstrels before. Master Dwight had then thrown a potato at Master Seabury.”

“I wish somebody would and chain those kids up. They’ll spoil the whole thing.”

“Master Dwight said that his hand had slipped, and the apology was gracefully received.”

“Well, go back and see if you can hear some more.”

“Very good, sir.”

I finished my sandwiches and beer, wishing that I had told Jeeves to bring me some coffee. But you don’t have to tell Jeeves things like that. He came back with the steaming cupful.

“Luncheon has just concluded, sir.”

“Ah! Did you see Miss Stoker?”

“Yes, sir. I informed her that you desired a word with her, and she will be here shortly.”

“Why not now?”

“His lordship engaged her in conversation immediately after I had given her your message.”

“Had you told him to come here, too?”

“Yes, sir.”

“No good, Jeeves. They will arrive together.”

“No, sir. If so, I can easily detain him for a moment on some matter.”

“When did you see Miss Stoker?”

“About a quarter of an hour ago, sir.”

“Ah!”

I had observed a gleam of white among the bushes. The next moment, the girl appeared. She was looking more beautiful than ever, her eyes, in particular, shining like twin stars.

“Hallo, Bertie,” said Pauline. “Are you really having a headache? You seem to have been doing yourself pretty well, in spite of it.”

“Oh … You had better take these things back, Jeeves.”

“Very good, sir.”

“And if his lordship should want me, I’m here.”

“Yes, sir.”

He gathered up the plate, cup and bottle and disappeared.

Pauline had grabbed my arm.

“Bertie—” she was saying

But at this point I caught sight of Chuffy’s head over a shrub, and I felt that the moment had come to act. I waited no longer. Folding the girl in my arms, I kissed her on her right eyebrow.

But the fellow in the shrub was not Chuffy. The bloke who now stood before us was old Stoker. It was, you must admit, not a little awkward. A fellow with fifty millions in his pocket doesn’t have to wear the mask. If he wants to give anybody a nasty look, he gives him a nasty look. He was giving me one now.

Fortunately, the thing did not go beyond looks. The civilization prevailed. With one more of those looks he collected Pauline, and the next moment I was alone.

Suddenly Chuffy appeared.

“Look here, Bertie,” he began without preamble, “what’s all this I hear?”

“What’s all what you hear, old man?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had been engaged to Pauline Stoker?”

“I don’t understand you, Chuffnell,” I said stiffly. “Did you expect me to send you a post card?”

“You could have told me this morning.”

“I saw no reason to do so. How did you hear about it, anyhow?”

“Sir Roderick Glossop happened to mention it.”

“Oh, he did, did he? Well, he broke it off.”

“What do you mean?”

“He happened to be in New York at the time, and to urge old Stoker to give me the push. The whole thing didn’t last more than forty-eight hours.”

“You swear that?”

“Certainly.”

“Only forty-eight hours?”

“Less.”

“And there’s nothing between you now?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re sure?”

“Nothing whatever. So, Chuffy, old man,” I said, patting his shoulder, “fear nothing. The girl is in love with you.”

“Who told you that?”

“She did.”

“Herself?”

“In person.”

“She does really love me?”

“Passionately.”

A look of relief came into his face.

“Well, that’s all right, then. You know, when a fellow’s just got engaged to a girl, it’s rather strange to find that she was engaged to somebody else about two months before.”

I was astounded.

“Are you engaged? Since when?”

“Since shortly after lunch.”

“But how about Wotwotleigh?”

“Who told you about Wotwotleigh?”

“Jeeves. He said the shadow of Wotwotleigh brooded over you like a cloud.”

“Jeeves talks too much. Immediately before I talked to Pauline, old Stoker told me he had decided to buy the house.”

“Really!”

“Absolutely. I think it was the wine that did it. My best wine.”

“You couldn’t have done a wiser thing. Your own idea?”

“No. Jeeves’s.”

I could not restrain a wistful sigh.

“Jeeves is a wonder.”

“A marvel.”

“What a brain! He eats a lot of fish. What a pity he does not like good music,” I said. “Well, this is fine, I hope you will be very, very happy. I can honestly say that I always look on Pauline as one of the nicest girls I was ever engaged to.”

“I’m trying to forget that you ever were engaged to her. I wonder what made her accept you?”

This had puzzled me too.

“I once consulted a knowledgeable pal,” I said, “and his theory was that the sight of me hanging about like a sheep awoke the maternal instinct in woman. There may be something in this.”

“Possibly,” agreed Chuffy. “Well, I’ll be off. I suppose Stoker will want to talk to me about the house. You are coming?”

“No, thanks. I could stand your Aunt Myrtle. I could even stand little Seabury. But add Stoker and Glossop, this is too much for Bertram. I shall take a stroll about the estate.”

* * *

I spent an agreeable two hours strolling about, and it was late afternoon when the imperative need for a cup of tea sent me back. I wanted to find Jeeves.

A maid directed me to his room.

“In fact, Jeeves,” I said, “I suppose old Chuffy is feeling great.”

“Not exactly, sir.”

“Eh?”

“No, sir. I regret to say that there has been something wrong.”

“What! Have they quarrelled already?”

“No, sir. His lordship’s relations with Miss Stoker continue cordial. It is with Mr Stoker that he is on distant terms.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Yes, sir.”

“What happened?”

“The origin of the trouble was a physical contest[57] between Master Dwight Stoker and Master Seabury, sir. Master Seabury tried to get exact from Master Dwight the sum of one shilling and sixpence for what he termed protection.”

“Oh, Lord!”

“Yes, sir. Master Dwight, I gathered, declined. One word led to another, with the result that at about three-thirty sounds were heard proceeding from the room, and the senior members of the party discovered the young gentlemen on the floor, they were struggling. At the moment of their arrival, Master Dwight was seated on Master Seabury’s chest, bumping his head on the carpet.”

“And then?”

“The initiative was taken by Lady Chuffnell.”

I moaned.

“On witnessing it, her ladyship uttered a sharp cry and struck Master Dwight with considerable force on the right ear.”

“Upon which, of course—?”

“Precisely, sir. Mr Stoker kicked Master Seabury.”

“He got him, Jeeves!”

“Yes, sir. Master Seabury was rising at the moment, and was well adapted for the receipt of such an attack. Her ladyship called to Sir Roderick for support, and high words[58] ensued. Then Mr Stoker informed Sir Roderick that if he supposed that he, Mr Stoker, intended to purchase Chuffnell Hall after what had occurred, he, Sir Roderick, was in grave error.”

I buried the head in the hands.

“His lordship urged Mr Stoker to disclaim these words. It was his lordship’s view that Mr Stoker, having given his promise to purchase Chuffnell Hall, could not, as an honourable man, recede from this obligation. Mr Stoker replied that he did not care what he had promised or what he had not promised. After that, his lordship, I regret to say, became unguarded in his speech.”

I moaned again.

“Then Mr Stoker returned to the yacht with Miss Stoker and Master Dwight. Sir Roderick has gone to the local inn. Lady Chuffnell is with Master Seabury in his bedroom. His lordship, I believe, is taking the dog for a run in the west park.”

“When all this happened, had Chuffy told Stoker he wanted to marry Miss Stoker?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, I don’t see how he can very well do it now.”

“I think the announcement would not be cordially received, sir. And I chanced to be an auditor of a conversation between Mr and Miss Stoker. It was the gentleman’s intention to keep Miss Stoker on board, not permitting her to go ashore.”

“But you said he didn’t know anything about the engagement.”

“Mr Stoker’s motive is not to prevent her encountering his lordship, but to obviate any chance of her meeting you, sir. The fact that you embraced the young lady has convinced him that her affection for you has persisted since your parting in New York.”

“You’re sure you really heard all this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You were talking with Chuffy, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And he heard all that, too?”

“Yes, sir.”

“About me kissing Miss Stoker?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did he say?”

“He mentioned something about giving you a good lesson, sir.”

“Jeeves,” I said, “advise me, Jeeves.”

“Well, sir, I think it might be judicious if you were to attempt to persuade his lordship that the spirit in which you embraced Miss Stoker was a purely brotherly one.”

I rose.

“It may work, Jeeves. It is, at least, worth trying. I shall now leave you, to prepare myself for the ordeal before me with silent meditation.”

“Your tea will be here in a moment, sir.”

“No, Jeeves. This is no time for tea. I must concentrate. I dare say I shall see him shortly.”

“It would not surprise me if you find his lordship awaiting you at your cottage, sir.”

* * *

He was absolutely correct. No sooner had I crossed the threshold than I saw Chuffy, gazing upon me.

“Ah!” he said, “Here you are at last!”

I gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Here I am, yes. And I have heard all. Jeeves told me. Too bad, too bad. I did not think, old man, when I bestowed a brotherly kiss on Pauline Stoker by way of congratulating her on your engagement, that it would make all this trouble.”

“Brotherly? Hm!”

“Essentially brotherly.”

A struggle was going on in the old boy’s bosom. Then he became calmer.

“Well, all right,” he said. “But in future if you want sisters, seek them elsewhere.”

“Just so. Then you still intend to marry this Pauline?

“Intend to marry her? Of course I intend to marry her. I’d look a silly ass not marrying a girl like that, wouldn’t I?”

“But Stoker is not going to buy the Hall, is he?”

“Bertie,” he said, “don’t remind me of a time when I must have been absolutely stupid. I can’t imagine how I ever felt like that. My views have changed. I don’t care now if I haven’t a bean and she’s got millions.”

“Fine.”

“What does money matter?”

“Quite.”

“I mean, love’s love.”

“You never spoke a truer word. If I were you, I’d write her a letter embodying those views.”

“I will. And, by Lord!”

“What?”

“Jeeves shall take it to her. I should have told you that Stoker wanted Jeeves to leave me and enter his service. Now I am all for it. Jeeves shall go to him.”

“I see what you mean. Under the Stoker banner, he will be free to come and go.”

“Exactly.”

“He can take a letter from you to her and then one from her to you and then one from you to her and then one from her to you and then one from you to her and then one—”

“Yes, yes. You’ve got the idea. And in the course of this correspondence we can fix up some scheme for meeting. Have you any idea how long it takes to organize a wedding?”

“I’m not sure. I believe, if you get a special license, you can do it like a flash.”

“I’ll get a special license. I feel a new man. I’ll go and tell Jeeves at once. He can be on that yacht this evening.”

At this point he suddenly stopped.

“I suppose she really does love me?”

“Dash it, old man, didn’t she say so?”

“She said so, yes. Yes, she said so. But can you believe what a girl says?”

“My dear chap!”

“Well, she may have been fooling me.”

“Stop it, laddie.”

He had left me. It had been a strenuous day. I felt restless.

“I shall dine out, Brinkley,” I said.

This man had been sent down by the agency in London, and I want to say he wasn’t the fellow I’d have selected if I had had time to make a choice in person. Not at all the man of my dreams. A melancholy blighter, with a long, thin, face and deep eyes. I had been trying to establish cordial relations ever since he had arrived, but with no success. Outwardly he was all respectfulness, but inwardly you could see that he was a man who was dreaming about the Social Revolution and looked on Bertram as a tyrant and an oppressor.

“Yes, Brinkley, I shall dine out.”

He said nothing, merely looking at me.

I went round to the garage and got the car out. It was only a matter of thirty miles or so to Bristol, and I got there to watch a musical comedy. I was feeling rested and refreshed when I started back home.

As I opened the door of my room, I dropped the candle. Pauline Stoker in my heliotrope pyjamas was sitting on my bed.