Читать книгу Дживс, вы – гений! / Thank you, Jeeves! - Пелам Гренвилл Вудхаус, Pelham Grenville Wodehouse - Страница 9

We looked at each other with a wild surmise.

“It’s father!” Pauline gargled, and she doused the candle.

“What did you do that for?” I said. The sudden darkness seemed to make things worse.

“So that he shouldn’t see a light in the window, of course. If he thinks you’re asleep he may go away.”

“What a hope!” I retorted, as the knocking started again.

“Well, I suppose you had better go down,” said the girl. “Or”—she seemed to brighten—“shall we pour water on him from the staircase window?”

I started.

“Don’t dream of it!” I whispered urgently.

I mean to say, dry J. Washburn Stoker was bad enough. But wet J. Washburn Stoker was even worse.

“I’ll have to see him,” I said.

“Well, be careful.”

“How do you mean, careful?”

“Oh, just careful. Still, of course, he may not have a gun.”

“Well, dash it,” I said, “I shall have to go down and talk to him. That door will be splitting asunder soon.”

“Don’t get close to him.”

“I won’t.”

“He was a great wrestler when he was a young man.”

“You needn’t tell me any more about your father.”

“Is there anywhere I can hide?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know why not,” I replied. “They don’t build these country cottages with secret rooms and underground passages. When you hear me open the front door, stop breathing.”

“Do you want me to suffocate?”

I did not reply and hurried down the stairs and flung open the front door. Well, when I say “flung”, I opened it a matter of six inches.

“Hallo?” I said. “Yes?”

“Oy!” said a voice. “What’s the matter with you, young man? Deaf or something?”

It wasn’t the voice of J. Washburn Stoker.

“Frightfully sorry,” I said. “I was thinking of this and that. Sort of reverie, if you know what I mean.”

The voice spoke again.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. I thought you was the young man Brinkley.”

“Brinkley’s out,” I said, “Who are you?”

“Sergeant Voules, sir.”

I opened the door. It was pretty dark outside, but I could recognize the arm of the Law.

“Ah, Sergeant!” I said. “Anything I can do for you, Sergeant?”

My eyes were getting accustomed to the darkness by this time, and I was enabled to see another policeman. Tall and lean, this one.

“This is my young nephew, sir. Constable Dobson[61].”

“Ah, Dobson!” I said.

“Are you aware, sir, that there’s a window broke at the back of your residence? My young nephew here saw it and thought best to wake me up and have me investigate. A ground-floor window, sir.”

“Oh, that? Yes, Brinkley did that yesterday. Silly ass!”

“You knew about it, then, sir?”

“Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Quite all right, Sergeant.”

“Well, you know best if it’s quite all right, sir, but I should say there was a danger of thieves getting through.”

And at this point Dobson said, “I thought I saw a thief getting through, Uncle Ted.”

“What! Then why didn’t you tell me before, you young muttonhead[62]? And don’t call me Uncle Ted when we’re on duty.”

“No, Uncle Ted.”

“You’d best let us make a search of the house, sir,” said Sergeant Voules.

“Certainly not, Sergeant,” I said. “Quite out of the question[63].”

“It would be wiser, sir.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but it can’t be done.”

He seemed discontented.

“Good night, sir.”

“Good night.”

I shut the door and came back to the bedroom. Pauline was sitting up in bed.

“Who was it?”

“Police.”

“What did they want?”

“Apparently they saw you getting in.”

“What a lot of trouble I’m giving you, Bertie.”

“Oh, no. Only too pleased. Well, I suppose I must go away.”

“Are you going?”

“I shall go to the garage,” I replied.

“Isn’t there a sofa downstairs?”

“There is. Noah’s[64]. He brought it ashore on Mount Ararat[65]. I shall be better off in the car.”

“Oh, Bertie, I am giving you a lot of trouble.”

I sighed. Love’s love.

“Don’t you worry. We Woosters are always ready to help poor lovers. You put your little head on the pillow and sleep. I shall be all right.”

And, so saying, I went down the stairs, opened the front door, and out into the scented night. Suddenly a heavy hand fell on my shoulder.

“Ouch!” I said.

It was Constable Dobson.

“I beg your pardon, sir. I thought you were the thief.”

“Quite all right, Constable. Quite all right. Just going for a stroll.”

“I understand, sir. Breath of air.”

“Yes. Exactly. A breath, as you astutely observe, of air.”

“Oh, yes, sir. Well, good night, sir.”

“Good night. Tra-la, Constable.”

I proceeded on my way. I had left the garage door open, and I went to my old car, glad to be alone again. I climbed into the car and.

A light suddenly flashed on the features and a voice instructed me to come out of the car.

“Ah, Sergeant!” I said.

Another awkward meeting.

“Is that you, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry to have disturbed you, sir.”

“Not at all. I thought I’d try to get a bit of sleep in the old car, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Such a warm night.”

“Just so, sir.”

His voice was respectful, but there was something in his manner that gave me the idea that he considered Bertram eccentric.

“I often sleep in the car in the summertime.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Good night, Sergeant.”

“Good night, sir.”

I soon saw that all efforts in the direction of the restful night would be fruitless. I went out of the car and decided to sleep on the floor. It was smelling of mice and mould. But at the end of about half an hour a soothing drowsiness had begun to come to me.

And at the end of about thirty-five minutes the door flew open and there was the old, familiar lantern shining in again.

“Ah!” said Sergeant Voules.

And Constable Dobson said the same.

“Yes?” I said. “What is it now?”

“Is that you again, sir?” inquired the sergeant.

“Yes, it is, dash it! What, may I ask, does this mean? Sleep under these conditions becomes impossible.”

“Very sorry, sir. It never occurred to me that it could be you.”

“And why not?”

“Well, sleeping in a shed, sir—”

“You do not dispute the fact that it is my shed?”

“No, sir. But it seems funny.”

“I see nothing funny in it whatsoever. I have a right, have I not, to sleep where I please?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Exactly. It might be the coal cellar[66]. It might be the front door steps[67]. It happens to be this shed. I will now thank you, Sergeant, to withdraw.”

“Are you intending to remain here the rest of the night, sir?”

“Certainly. Why not?”

He was at a loss.[68]

“Well, I suppose there’s no reason why you shouldn’t, if you want to, sir.”

I had had enough of this.

“I hate beds,” I said. “Can’t stand them. Never could.”

“Very good, sir.” He paused a moment. “Quite a warm day today, sir.”

“Quite.”

“Yes, sir. Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Sergeant.”

“Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Constable.”

“Good night, sir.”

The door closed softly. And not ten minutes after I had decided that I should never get to sleep again in this world I was off as comfortably as a babe.

It couldn’t last long, of course. The next thing I remember is someone joggling my arm.

I sat up. There was the good old lantern once more.

“Now, listen—” I was beginning, when the words froze on my lips.

The fellow who was joggling my arm was Chuffy.