Right Ho, Jeeves
“No, sir.”
“He invites comment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I can see the poor old bird ducking down side-streets, skulking in
alley-ways, diving into dust-bins.”
“I gathered from Mr. Fink-Nottle’s remarks, sir, that something very
much on those lines was what occurred. Eventually, after a trying
night, he found his way to Mr. Sipperley’s residence, where he was able
to secure lodging and a change of costume in the morning.”
I nestled against the pillows, the brow a bit drawn. It is all very
well to try to do old school friends a spot of good, but I could not
but feel that in espousing the cause of a lunkhead capable of mucking
things up as Gussie had done, I had taken on a contract almost too big
for human consumption. It seemed to me that what Gussie needed was not
so much the advice of a seasoned man of the world as a padded cell in
Colney Hatch and a couple of good keepers to see that he did not set
the place on fire.
Indeed, for an instant I had half a mind to withdraw from the case and
hand it back to Jeeves. But the pride of the Woosters restrained me.
When we Woosters put our hands to the plough, we do not readily sheathe
the sword. Besides, after that business of the mess-jacket, anything
resembling weakness would have been fatal.
“I suppose you realize, Jeeves,” I said, for though one dislikes to rub
it in, these things have to be pointed out, “that all this was your
fault?”
“Sir?”
“It’s no good saying ‘Sir?’ You know it was. If you had not insisted
on his going to that dance--a mad project, as I spotted from the
first--this would not have happened.”
“Yes, sir, but I confess I did not anticipate----”
“Always anticipate everything, Jeeves,” I said, a little sternly. “It
is the only way. Even if you had allowed him to wear a Pierrot costume,
things would not have panned out as they did. A Pierrot costume has
pockets. However,” I went on more kindly, “we need not go into that
now. If all this has shown you what comes of going about the place in
scarlet tights, that is something gained. Gussie waits without, you
say?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then shoot him in, and I will see what I can do for him.”
-6-
Gussie, on arrival, proved to be still showing traces of his grim
experience. The face was pale, the eyes gooseberry-like, the ears
drooping, and the whole aspect that of a man who has passed through the
furnace and been caught in the machinery. I hitched myself up a bit
higher on the pillows and gazed at him narrowly. It was a moment, I
could see, when first aid was required, and I prepared to get down to
cases.
“Well, Gussie.”
“Hullo, Bertie.”
“What ho.”
“What ho.”
These civilities concluded, I felt that the moment had come to touch
delicately on the past.
“I hear you’ve been through it a bit.”
“Yes.”
“Thanks to Jeeves.”
“It wasn’t Jeeves’s fault.”
“Entirely Jeeves’s fault.”
“I don’t see that. I forgot my money and latchkey----”
“And now you’d better forget Jeeves. For you will be interested to
hear, Gussie,” I said, deeming it best to put him in touch with the
position of affairs right away, “that he is no longer handling your
little problem.”
This seemed to slip it across him properly. The jaws fell, the ears
drooped more limply. He had been looking like a dead fish. He now
looked like a deader fish, one of last year’s, cast up on some lonely
beach and left there at the mercy of the wind and tides.
“What!”
“Yes.”
“You don’t mean that Jeeves isn’t going to----”
“No.”
“But, dash it----”
I was kind, but firm.
“You will be much better off without him. Surely your terrible
experiences of that awful night have told you that Jeeves needs a rest.
The keenest of thinkers strikes a bad patch occasionally. That is what
has happened to Jeeves. I have seen it coming on for some time. He has
lost his form. He wants his plugs decarbonized. No doubt this is a
shock to you. I suppose you came here this morning to seek his advice?”
“Of course I did.”
“On what point?”
“Madeline Bassett has gone to stay with these people in the country,
and I want to know what he thinks I ought to do.”
“Well, as I say, Jeeves is off the case.”
“But, Bertie, dash it----”
“Jeeves,” I said with a certain asperity, “is no longer on the case. I
am now in sole charge.”
“But what on earth can you do?”
I curbed my resentment. We Woosters are fair-minded. We can make
allowances for men who have been parading London all night in scarlet
tights.
“That,” I said quietly, “we shall see. Sit down and let us confer. I am
bound to say the thing seems quite simple to me. You say this girl has
gone to visit friends in the country. It would appear obvious that you
must go there too, and flock round her like a poultice. Elementary.”
“But I can’t plant myself on a lot of perfect strangers.”
“Don’t you know these people?”
“Of course I don’t. I don’t know anybody.”
I pursed the lips. This did seem to complicate matters somewhat.
“All that I know is that their name is Travers, and it’s a place called
Brinkley Court down in Worcestershire.”
I unpursed my lips.
“Gussie,” I said, smiling paternally, “it was a lucky day for you
when Bertram Wooster interested himself in your affairs. As I foresaw
from the start, I can fix everything. This afternoon you shall go to
Brinkley Court, an honoured guest.”
He quivered like a _mousse_. I suppose it must always be rather a
thrilling experience for the novice to watch me taking hold.
“But, Bertie, you don’t mean you know these Traverses?”
“They are my Aunt Dahlia.”
“My gosh!”
“You see now,” I pointed out, “how lucky you were to get me behind you.
You go to Jeeves, and what does he do? He dresses you up in scarlet
tights and one of the foulest false beards of my experience, and sends
you off to fancy-dress balls. Result, agony of spirit and no progress.
I then take over and put you on the right lines. Could Jeeves have got
you into Brinkley Court? Not a chance. Aunt Dahlia isn’t his aunt. I
merely mention these things.”
“By Jove, Bertie, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“My dear chap!”
“But, I say.”
“Now what?”
“What do I do when I get there?”
“If you knew Brinkley Court, you would not ask that question. In those
romantic surroundings you can’t miss. Great lovers through the ages
have fixed up the preliminary formalities at Brinkley. The place is
simply ill with atmosphere. You will stroll with the girl in the shady
walks. You will sit with her on the shady lawns. You will row on the
lake with her. And gradually you will find yourself working up to a
point where----”
“By Jove, I believe you’re right.”
“Of course, I’m right. I’ve got engaged three times at Brinkley. No
business resulted, but the fact remains. And I went there without the
foggiest idea of indulging in the tender pash. I hadn’t the slightest
intention of proposing to anybody. Yet no sooner had I entered those
romantic grounds than I found myself reaching out for the nearest girl
in sight and slapping my soul down in front of her. It’s something in
the air.”
“I see exactly what you mean. That’s just what I want to be able to
do--work up to it. And in London--curse the place--everything’s in such
a rush that you don’t get a chance.”
“Quite. You see a girl alone for about five minutes a day, and if you
want to ask her to be your wife, you’ve got to charge into it as if you
were trying to grab the gold ring on a merry-go-round.”
“That’s right. London rattles one. I shall be a different man
altogether in the country. What a bit of luck this Travers woman
turning out to be your aunt.”
“I don’t know what you mean, turning out to be my aunt. She has been my
aunt all along.”
“I mean, how extraordinary that it should be your aunt that Madeline’s
going to stay with.”
“Not at all. She and my Cousin Angela are close friends. At Cannes she
was with us all the time.”
“Oh, you met Madeline at Cannes, did you? By Jove, Bertie,” said the
poor lizard devoutly, “I wish I could have seen her at Cannes. How
wonderful she must have looked in beach pyjamas! Oh, Bertie----”
“Quite,” I said, a little distantly. Even when restored by one of
Jeeves’s depth bombs, one doesn’t want this sort of thing after a
hard night. I touched the bell and, when Jeeves appeared, requested
him to bring me telegraph form and pencil. I then wrote a well-worded
communication to Aunt Dahlia, informing her that I was sending my
friend, Augustus Fink-Nottle, down to Brinkley today to enjoy her
hospitality, and handed it to Gussie.
“Push that in at the first post office you pass,” I said. “She will
find it waiting for her on her return.”
Gussie popped along, flapping the telegram and looking like a close-up
of Joan Crawford, and I turned to Jeeves and gave him a précis of my
operations.
“Simple, you observe, Jeeves. Nothing elaborate.”
“No, sir.”
“Nothing far-fetched. Nothing strained or bizarre. Just Nature’s
remedy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is the attack as it should have been delivered. What do you call
it when two people of opposite sexes are bunged together in close
association in a secluded spot, meeting each other every day and seeing
a lot of each other?”
“Is ‘propinquity’ the word you wish, sir?”
“It is. I stake everything on propinquity, Jeeves. Propinquity, in
my opinion, is what will do the trick. At the moment, as you are
aware, Gussie is a mere jelly when in the presence. But ask yourself
how he will feel in a week or so, after he and she have been helping
themselves to sausages out of the same dish day after day at the
breakfast sideboard. Cutting the same ham, ladling out communal kidneys
and bacon--why----”
I broke off abruptly. I had had one of my ideas.
“Golly, Jeeves!”
“Sir?”
“Here’s an instance of how you have to think of everything. You heard
me mention sausages, kidneys and bacon and ham.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, there must be nothing of that. Fatal. The wrong note entirely.
Give me that telegraph form and pencil. I must warn Gussie without
delay. What he’s got to do is to create in this girl’s mind the
impression that he is pining away for love of her. This cannot be done
by wolfing sausages.”
“No, sir.”
“Very well, then.”
And, taking form and _p._, I drafted the following:
_Fink-Nottle
Brinkley Court,
Market Snodsbury
Worcestershire
Lay off the sausages. Avoid the ham.
Bertie._
“Send that off, Jeeves, instanter.”
“Very good, sir.”
I sank back on the pillows.
“Well, Jeeves,” I said, “you see how I am taking hold. You notice the
grip I am getting on this case. No doubt you realize now that it would
pay you to study my methods.”
“No doubt, sir.”
“And even now you aren’t on to the full depths of the extraordinary
sagacity I’ve shown. Do you know what brought Aunt Dahlia up here this
morning? She came to tell me I’d got to distribute the prizes at some
beastly seminary she’s a governor of down at Market Snodsbury.”
“Indeed, sir? I fear you will scarcely find that a congenial task.”
“Ah, but I’m not going to do it. I’m going to shove it off on to
Gussie.”
“Sir?”
“I propose, Jeeves, to wire to Aunt Dahlia saying that I can’t get
down, and suggesting that she unleashes him on these young Borstal
inmates of hers in my stead.”
“But if Mr. Fink-Nottle should decline, sir?”
“Decline? Can you see him declining? Just conjure up the picture in
your mind, Jeeves. Scene, the drawing-room at Brinkley; Gussie wedged
into a corner, with Aunt Dahlia standing over him making hunting
noises. I put it to you, Jeeves, can you see him declining?”
“Not readily, sir. I agree. Mrs. Travers is a forceful personality.”
“He won’t have a hope of declining. His only way out would be to slide