Right Ho, Jeeves
might be that it would ease his mind to confide in a sympathetic man
of experience. I have generally found, with those under the influence,
that what they want more than anything is the listening ear.
“Well, Gussie, old leper,” I said, “I’ve been hearing all about you.”
“Eh?”
“This little trouble of yours. Jeeves has told me everything.”
He didn’t seem any too braced. It’s always difficult to be sure, of
course, when a chap has dug himself in behind a Mephistopheles beard,
but I fancy he flushed a trifle.
“I wish Jeeves wouldn’t go gassing all over the place. It was supposed
to be confidential.”
I could not permit this tone.
“Dishing up the dirt to the young master can scarcely be described as
gassing all over the place,” I said, with a touch of rebuke. “Anyway,
there it is. I know all. And I should like to begin,” I said, sinking
my personal opinion that the female in question was a sloppy pest in
my desire to buck and encourage, “by saying that Madeline Bassett is a
charming girl. A winner, and just the sort for you.”
“You don’t know her?”
“Certainly I know her. What beats me is how you ever got in touch.
Where did you meet?”
“She was staying at a place near mine in Lincolnshire the week before
last.”
“Yes, but even so. I didn’t know you called on the neighbours.”
“I don’t. I met her out for a walk with her dog. The dog had got a
thorn in its foot, and when she tried to take it out, it snapped at
her. So, of course, I had to rally round.”
“You extracted the thorn?”
“Yes.”
“And fell in love at first sight?”
“Yes.”
“Well, dash it, with a thing like that to give you a send-off, why
didn’t you cash in immediately?”
“I hadn’t the nerve.”
“What happened?”
“We talked for a bit.”
“What about?”
“Oh, birds.”
“Birds? What birds?”
“The birds that happened to be hanging round. And the scenery, and all
that sort of thing. And she said she was going to London, and asked me
to look her up if I was ever there.”
“And even after that you didn’t so much as press her hand?”
“Of course not.”
Well, I mean, it looked as though there was no more to be said. If
a chap is such a rabbit that he can’t get action when he’s handed
the thing on a plate, his case would appear to be pretty hopeless.
Nevertheless, I reminded myself that this non-starter and I had been at
school together. One must make an effort for an old school friend.
“Ah, well,” I said, “we must see what can be done. Things may brighten.
At any rate, you will be glad to learn that I am behind you in this
enterprise. You have Bertram Wooster in your corner, Gussie.”
“Thanks, old man. And Jeeves, of course, which is the thing that really
matters.”
I don’t mind admitting that I winced. He meant no harm, I suppose, but
I’m bound to say that this tactless speech nettled me not a little.
People are always nettling me like that. Giving me to understand, I
mean to say, that in their opinion Bertram Wooster is a mere cipher
and that the only member of the household with brains and resources is
Jeeves.
It jars on me.
And tonight it jarred on me more than usual, because I was feeling
pretty dashed fed with Jeeves. Over that matter of the mess jacket, I
mean. True, I had forced him to climb down, quelling him, as described,
with the quiet strength of my personality, but I was still a trifle
shirty at his having brought the thing up at all. It seemed to me that
what Jeeves wanted was the iron hand.
“And what is he doing about it?” I inquired stiffly.
“He’s been giving the position of affairs a lot of thought.”
“He has, has he?”
“It’s on his advice that I’m going to this dance.”
“Why?”
“She is going to be there. In fact, it was she who sent me the ticket
of invitation. And Jeeves considered----”
“And why not as a Pierrot?” I said, taking up the point which had
struck me before. “Why this break with a grand old tradition?”
“He particularly wanted me to go as Mephistopheles.”
I started.
“He did, did he? He specifically recommended that definite costume?”
“Yes.”
“Ha!”
“Eh?”
“Nothing. Just ‘Ha!’”
And I’ll tell you why I said “Ha!” Here was Jeeves making heavy weather
about me wearing a perfectly ordinary white mess jacket, a garment not
only _tout ce qu’il y a de chic_, but absolutely _de rigueur_, and in
the same breath, as you might say, inciting Gussie Fink-Nottle to be a
blot on the London scene in scarlet tights. Ironical, what? One looks
askance at this sort of in-and-out running.
“What has he got against Pierrots?”
“I don’t think he objects to Pierrots as Pierrots. But in my case he
thought a Pierrot wouldn’t be adequate.”
“I don’t follow that.”
“He said that the costume of Pierrot, while pleasing to the eye, lacked
the authority of the Mephistopheles costume.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Well, it’s a matter of psychology, he said.”
There was a time when a remark like that would have had me snookered.
But long association with Jeeves has developed the Wooster vocabulary
considerably. Jeeves has always been a whale for the psychology of the
individual, and I now follow him like a bloodhound when he snaps it out
of the bag.
“Oh, psychology?”
“Yes. Jeeves is a great believer in the moral effect of clothes. He
thinks I might be emboldened in a striking costume like this. He said
a Pirate Chief would be just as good. In fact, a Pirate Chief was his
first suggestion, but I objected to the boots.”
I saw his point. There is enough sadness in life without having fellows
like Gussie Fink-Nottle going about in sea boots.
“And are you emboldened?”
“Well, to be absolutely accurate, Bertie, old man, no.”
A gust of compassion shook me. After all, though we had lost touch a
bit of recent years, this man and I had once thrown inked darts at each
other.
“Gussie,” I said, “take an old friend’s advice, and don’t go within a
mile of this binge.”
“But it’s my last chance of seeing her. She’s off tomorrow to stay with
some people in the country. Besides, you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
“That this idea of Jeeves’s won’t work. I feel a most frightful chump
now, yes, but who can say whether that will not pass off when I get
into a mob of other people in fancy dress. I had the same experience
as a child, one year during the Christmas festivities. They dressed me
up as a rabbit, and the shame was indescribable. Yet when I got to the
party and found myself surrounded by scores of other children, many
in costumes even ghastlier than my own, I perked up amazingly, joined
freely in the revels, and was able to eat so hearty a supper that I was
sick twice in the cab coming home. What I mean is, you can’t tell in
cold blood.”
I weighed this. It was specious, of course.
“And you can’t get away from it that, fundamentally, Jeeves’s idea is
sound. In a striking costume like Mephistopheles, I might quite easily
pull off something pretty impressive. Colour does make a difference.
Look at newts. During the courting season the male newt is brilliantly
coloured. It helps him a lot.”
“But you aren’t a male newt.”
“I wish I were. Do you know how a male newt proposes, Bertie? He just
stands in front of the female newt vibrating his tail and bending his
body in a semi-circle. I could do that on my head. No, you wouldn’t
find me grousing if I were a male newt.”
“But if you were a male newt, Madeline Bassett wouldn’t look at you.
Not with the eye of love, I mean.”
“She would, if she were a female newt.”
“But she isn’t a female newt.”
“No, but suppose she was.”
“Well, if she was, you wouldn’t be in love with her.”
“Yes, I would, if I were a male newt.”
A slight throbbing about the temples told me that this discussion had
reached saturation point.
“Well, anyway,” I said, “coming down to hard facts and cutting out all
this visionary stuff about vibrating tails and what not, the salient
point that emerges is that you are booked to appear at a fancy-dress
ball. And I tell you out of my riper knowledge of fancy-dress balls,
Gussie, that you won’t enjoy yourself.”
“It isn’t a question of enjoying yourself.”
“I wouldn’t go.”
“I must go. I keep telling you she’s off to the country tomorrow.”
I gave it up.
“So be it,” I said. “Have it your own way.... Yes, Jeeves?”
“Mr. Fink-Nottle’s cab, sir.”
“Ah? The cab, eh?... Your cab, Gussie.”
“Oh, the cab? Oh, right. Of course, yes, rather.... Thanks, Jeeves ...
Well, so long, Bertie.”
And giving me the sort of weak smile Roman gladiators used to give the
Emperor before entering the arena, Gussie trickled off. And I turned to
Jeeves. The moment had arrived for putting him in his place, and I was
all for it.
It was a little difficult to know how to begin, of course. I mean to
say, while firmly resolved to tick him off, I didn’t want to gash his
feelings too deeply. Even when displaying the iron hand, we Woosters
like to keep the thing fairly matey.
However, on consideration, I saw that there was nothing to be gained by
trying to lead up to it gently. It is never any use beating about the b.
“Jeeves,” I said, “may I speak frankly?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“What I have to say may wound you.”
“Not at all, sir.”
“Well, then, I have been having a chat with Mr. Fink-Nottle, and he has
been telling me about this Mephistopheles scheme of yours.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Now let me get it straight. If I follow your reasoning correctly,
you think that, stimulated by being upholstered throughout in scarlet
tights, Mr. Fink-Nottle, on encountering the adored object, will
vibrate his tail and generally let himself go with a whoop.”
“I am of opinion that he will lose much of his normal diffidence, sir.”
“I don’t agree with you, Jeeves.”
“No, sir?”
“No. In fact, not to put too fine a point upon it, I consider that of
all the dashed silly, drivelling ideas I ever heard in my puff this
is the most blithering and futile. It won’t work. Not a chance. All
you have done is to subject Mr. Fink-Nottle to the nameless horrors
of a fancy-dress ball for nothing. And this is not the first time
this sort of thing has happened. To be quite candid, Jeeves, I have
frequently noticed before now a tendency or disposition on your part to
become--what’s the word?”
“I could not say, sir.”
“Eloquent? No, it’s not eloquent. Elusive? No, it’s not elusive. It’s
on the tip of my tongue. Begins with an ‘e’ and means being a jolly
sight too clever.”
“Elaborate, sir?”
“That is the exact word I was after. Too elaborate, Jeeves--that is
what you are frequently prone to become. Your methods are not simple,
not straightforward. You cloud the issue with a lot of fancy stuff that
is not of the essence. All that Gussie needs is the elder-brotherly
advice of a seasoned man of the world. So what I suggest is that from
now onward you leave this case to me.”
“Very good, sir.”
“You lay off and devote yourself to your duties about the home.”
“Very good, sir.”
“I shall no doubt think of something quite simple and straightforward
yet perfectly effective ere long. I will make a point of seeing Gussie
tomorrow.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Right ho, Jeeves.”
But on the morrow all those telegrams started coming in, and I confess
that for twenty-four hours I didn’t give the poor chap a thought,
having problems of my own to contend with.
-3-
The first of the telegrams arrived shortly after noon, and Jeeves
brought it in with the before-luncheon snifter. It was from my Aunt
Dahlia, operating from Market Snodsbury, a small town of sorts a mile
or two along the main road as you leave her country seat.
It ran as follows:
_Come at once. Travers._
And when I say it puzzled me like the dickens, I am understating it;
if anything. As mysterious a communication, I considered, as was ever