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chapter 5 helping freddie i don't want to bore you, don't you know,and all that sort of rot, but i must tell you about dear old freddie meadowes. i'm not a flier at literary style, and allthat, but i'll get some writer chappie to give the thing a wash and brush up wheni've finished, so that'll be all right. dear old freddie, don't you know, has beena dear old pal of mine for years and years; so when i went into the club one morningand found him sitting alone in a dark corner, staring glassily at nothing, and generally looking like the last rose ofsummer, you can understand i was quite

disturbed about it.as a rule, the old rotter is the life and soul of our set. quite the little lump of fun, and all thatsort of thing. jimmy pinkerton was with me at the time. jimmy's a fellow who writes plays--a deucedbrainy sort of fellow--and between us we set to work to question the poor pop-eyedchappie, until finally we got at what the matter was. as we might have guessed, it was a girl.he had had a quarrel with angela west, the girl he was engaged to, and she had brokenoff the engagement.

what the row had been about he didn't say,but apparently she was pretty well fed up. she wouldn't let him come near her, refusedto talk on the phone, and sent back his letters unopened. i was sorry for poor old freddie.i knew what it felt like. i was once in love myself with a girlcalled elizabeth shoolbred, and the fact that she couldn't stand me at any pricewill be recorded in my autobiography. i knew the thing for freddie. "change of scene is what you want, oldscout," i said. "come with me to marvis bay.i've taken a cottage there.

jimmy's coming down on the twenty-fourth. we'll be a cosy party.""he's absolutely right," said jimmy. "change of scene's the thing.i knew a man. girl refused him. man went abroad.two months later girl wired him, 'come back.muriel.' man started to write out a reply; suddenlyfound that he couldn't remember girl's surname; so never answered at all."but freddie wouldn't be comforted. he just went on looking as if he hadswallowed his last sixpence.

however, i got him to promise to come tomarvis bay with me. he said he might as well be there asanywhere. do you know marvis bay?it's in dorsetshire. it isn't what you'd call a fiercelyexciting spot, but it has its good points. you spend the day there bathing and sittingon the sands, and in the evening you stroll out on the shore with the gnats. at nine o'clock you rub ointment on thewounds and go to bed. it seemed to suit poor old freddie. once the moon was up and the breeze sighingin the trees, you couldn't drag him from

that beach with a rope.he became quite a popular pet with the gnats. they'd hang round waiting for him to comeout, and would give perfectly good strollers the miss-in-baulk just so as tobe in good condition for him. yes, it was a peaceful sort of life, but bythe end of the first week i began to wish that jimmy pinkerton had arranged to comedown earlier: for as a companion freddie, poor old chap, wasn't anything to writehome to mother about. when he wasn't chewing a pipe and scowlingat the carpet, he was sitting at the piano, playing "the rosary" with one finger.

he couldn't play anything except "therosary," and he couldn't play much of that. somewhere round about the third bar a fusewould blow out, and he'd have to start all over again. he was playing it as usual one morning wheni came in from bathing. "reggie," he said, in a hollow voice,looking up, "i've seen her." "seen her?" i said."what, miss west?" "i was down at the post office, getting theletters, and we met in the doorway. she cut me!"

he started "the rosary" again, and side-slipped in the second bar. "reggie," he said, "you ought never to havebrought me here. i must go away." "go away?"i said. "don't talk such rot.this is the best thing that could have happened. this is where you come out strong.""she cut me." "never mind.be a sportsman. have another dash at her."

"she looked clean through me!""of course she did. but don't mind that.put this thing in my hands. i'll see you through. now, what you want," i said, "is to placeher under some obligation to you. what you want is to get her timidlythanking you. what you want----" "but what's she going to thank me timidlyfor?" i thought for a moment."look out for a chance and save her from drowning," i said.

"i can't swim," said freddie.that was freddie all over, don't you know. a dear old chap in a thousand ways, but nohelp to a fellow, if you know what i mean. he cranked up the piano once more and isprinted for the open. i strolled out on to the sands and began tothink this thing over. there was no doubt that the brain-work hadgot to be done by me. dear old freddie had his strong qualities. he was top-hole at polo, and in happierdays i've heard him give an imitation of cats fighting in a backyard that would havesurprised you. but apart from that he wasn't a man ofenterprise.

well, don't you know, i was rounding somerocks, with my brain whirring like a dynamo, when i caught sight of a bluedress, and, by jove, it was the girl. i had never met her, but freddie hadsixteen photographs of her sprinkled round his bedroom, and i knew i couldn't bemistaken. she was sitting on the sand, helping asmall, fat child build a castle. on a chair close by was an elderly ladyreading a novel. i heard the girl call her "aunt." so, doing the sherlock holmes business, ideduced that the fat child was her cousin. it struck me that if freddie had been therehe would probably have tried to work up

some sentiment about the kid on thestrength of it. personally i couldn't manage it. i don't think i ever saw a child who mademe feel less sentimental. he was one of those round, bulging kids. after he had finished the castle he seemedto get bored with life, and began to whimper.the girl took him off to where a fellow was selling sweets at a stall. and i walked on.now, fellows, if you ask them, will tell you that i'm a chump.well, i don't mind.

i admit it. i am a chump.all the peppers have been chumps. but what i do say is that every now andthen, when you'd least expect it, i get a pretty hot brain-wave; and that's whathappened now. i doubt if the idea that came to me thenwould have occurred to a single one of any dozen of the brainiest chappies you care toname. it came to me on my return journey. i was walking back along the shore, when isaw the fat kid meditatively smacking a jelly-fish with a spade.the girl wasn't with him.

in fact, there didn't seem to be any one insight. i was just going to pass on when i got thebrain-wave. i thought the whole thing out in a flash,don't you know. from what i had seen of the two, the girlwas evidently fond of this kid, and, anyhow, he was her cousin, so what i saidto myself was this: if i kidnap this young heavy-weight for the moment, and if, when the girl has got frightfully anxious aboutwhere he can have got to, dear old freddie suddenly appears leading the infant by thehand and telling a story to the effect that he has found him wandering at large about

the country and practically saved his life,why, the girl's gratitude is bound to make her chuck hostilities and be friends again.so i gathered in the kid and made off with him. all the way home i pictured that scene ofreconciliation. i could see it so vividly, don't you know,that, by george, it gave me quite a choky feeling in my throat. freddie, dear old chap, was rather slow atgetting on to the fine points of the idea. when i appeared, carrying the kid, anddumped him down in our sitting-room, he didn't absolutely effervesce with joy, ifyou know what i mean.

the kid had started to bellow by this time,and poor old freddie seemed to find it rather trying."stop it!" he said. "do you think nobody's got any troublesexcept you? what the deuce is all this, reggie?"the kid came back at him with a yell that made the window rattle. i raced to the kitchen and fetched a jar ofhoney. it was the right stuff.the kid stopped bellowing and began to smear his face with the stuff. "well?" said freddie, when silence had setin.

i explained the idea.after a while it began to strike him. "you're not such a fool as you look,sometimes, reggie," he said handsomely. "i'm bound to say this seems pretty good." and he disentangled the kid from the honey-jar and took him out, to scour the beach for angela.i don't know when i've felt so happy. i was so fond of dear old freddie that toknow that he was soon going to be his old bright self again made me feel as ifsomebody had left me about a million pounds. i was leaning back in a chair on theveranda, smoking peacefully, when down the

road i saw the old boy returning, and, bygeorge, the kid was still with him. and freddie looked as if he hadn't a friendin the world. "hello!"i said. "couldn't you find her?" "yes, i found her," he replied, with one ofthose bitter, hollow laughs. "well, then----?"freddie sank into a chair and groaned. "this isn't her cousin, you idiot!" hesaid. "he's no relation at all.he's just a kid she happened to meet on the beach.

she had never seen him before in her life.""what! who is he, then?""i don't know. oh, lord, i've had a time! thank goodness you'll probably spend thenext few years of your life in dartmoor for kidnapping.that's my only consolation. i'll come and jeer at you through thebars." "tell me all, old boy," i said. it took him a good long time to tell thestory, for he broke off in the middle of nearly every sentence to call me names, buti gathered gradually what had happened.

she had listened like an iceberg while hetold the story he had prepared, and then-- well, she didn't actually call him a liar,but she gave him to understand in a general sort of way that if he and dr. cook ever happened to meet, and started swappingstories, it would be about the biggest duel on record.and then he had crawled away with the kid, licked to a splinter. "and mind, this is your affair," heconcluded. "i'm not mixed up in it at all. if you want to escape your sentence, you'dbetter go and find the kid's parents and

return him before the police come for you." by jove, you know, till i started to trampthe place with this infernal kid, i never had a notion it would have been so deuceddifficult to restore a child to its anxious parents. it's a mystery to me how kidnappers everget caught. i searched marvis bay like a bloodhound,but nobody came forward to claim the infant. you'd have thought, from the lack ofinterest in him, that he was stopping there all by himself in a cottage of his own.

it wasn't till, by an inspiration, ithought to ask the sweet-stall man that i found out that his name was medwin, andthat his parents lived at a place called ocean rest, in beach road. i shot off there like an arrow and knockedat the door. nobody answered.i knocked again. i could hear movements inside, but nobodycame. i was just going to get to work on thatknocker in such a way that the idea would filter through into these people's headsthat i wasn't standing there just for the fun of the thing, when a voice fromsomewhere above shouted, "hi!"

i looked up and saw a round, pink face,with grey whiskers east and west of it, staring down from an upper window. "hi!" it shouted again."what the deuce do you mean by 'hi'?" i said."you can't come in," said the face. "hello, is that tootles?" "my name is not tootles, and i don't wantto come in," i said. "are you mr. medwin?i've brought back your son." "i see him. peep-bo, tootles!dadda can see 'oo!"

the face disappeared with a jerk.i could hear voices. the face reappeared. "hi!"i churned the gravel madly. "do you live here?" said the face."i'm staying here for a few weeks." "what's your name?" "pepper.but----" "pepper?any relation to edward pepper, the colliery owner?" "my uncle.but----"

"i used to know him well.dear old edward pepper! i wish i was with him now." "i wish you were," i said.he beamed down at me. "this is most fortunate," he said."we were wondering what we were to do with tootles. you see, we have the mumps here.my daughter bootles has just developed mumps.tootles must not be exposed to the risk of infection. we could not think what we were to do withhim.

it was most fortunate your finding him.he strayed from his nurse. i would hesitate to trust him to the careof a stranger, but you are different. any nephew of edward pepper's has myimplicit confidence. you must take tootles to your house. it will be an ideal arrangement.i have written to my brother in london to come and fetch him.he may be here in a few days." "may!" "he is a busy man, of course; but he shouldcertainly be here within a week. till then tootles can stop with you.it is an excellent plan.

very much obliged to you. your wife will like tootles." "i haven't got a wife," i yelled; but thewindow had closed with a bang, as if the man with the whiskers had found a germtrying to escape, don't you know, and had headed it off just in time. i breathed a deep breath and wiped myforehead. the window flew up again."hi!" a package weighing about a ton hit me onthe head and burst like a bomb. "did you catch it?" said the face,reappearing.

"dear me, you missed it! never mind.you can get it at the grocer's. ask for bailey's granulated breakfastchips. tootles takes them for breakfast with alittle milk. be certain to get bailey's."my spirit was broken, if you know what i mean. i accepted the situation.taking tootles by the hand, i walked slowly away.napoleon's retreat from moscow was a picnic by the side of it.

as we turned up the road we met freddie'sangela. the sight of her had a marked effect on thekid tootles. he pointed at her and said, "wah!" the girl stopped and smiled.i loosed the kid, and he ran to her. "well, baby?" she said, bending down tohim. "so father found you again, did he? your little son and i made friends on thebeach this morning," she said to me. this was the limit. coming on top of that interview with thewhiskered lunatic it so utterly unnerved

me, don't you know, that she had noddedgood-bye and was half-way down the road before i caught up with my breath enough to deny the charge of being the infant'sfather. i hadn't expected dear old freddie to singwith joy when he found out what had happened, but i did think he might haveshown a little more manly fortitude. he leaped up, glared at the kid, andclutched his head. he didn't speak for a long time, but, onthe other hand, when he began he did not leave off for a long time. he was quite emotional, dear old boy.it beat me where he could have picked up

such expressions."well," he said, when he had finished, "say something! heavens! man, why don't you say something?""you don't give me a chance, old top," i said soothingly."what are you going to do about it?" "what can we do about it?" "we can't spend our time acting as nursesto this--this exhibit." he got up."i'm going back to london," he said. "freddie!" i cried."freddie, old man!"

my voice shook."would you desert a pal at a time like this?" "i would.this is your business, and you've got to manage it.""freddie," i said, "you've got to stand by me. you must.do you realize that this child has to be undressed, and bathed, and dressed again?you wouldn't leave me to do all that single-handed? freddie, old scout, we were at schooltogether.

your mother likes me.you owe me a tenner." he sat down again. "oh, well," he said resignedly."besides, old top," i said, "i did it all for your sake, don't you know?"he looked at me in a curious way. "reggie," he said, in a strained voice,"one moment. i'll stand a good deal, but i won't standfor being expected to be grateful." looking back at it, i see that what savedme from colney hatch in that crisis was my bright idea of buying up most of thecontents of the local sweet-shop. by serving out sweets to the kidpractically incessantly we managed to get

through the rest of that day prettysatisfactorily. at eight o'clock he fell asleep in a chair,and, having undressed him by unbuttoning every button in sight and, where there wereno buttons, pulling till something gave, we carried him up to bed. freddie stood looking at the pile ofclothes on the floor and i knew what he was thinking.to get the kid undressed had been simple--a mere matter of muscle. but how were we to get him into his clothesagain? i stirred the pile with my foot.there was a long linen arrangement which

might have been anything. also a strip of pink flannel which was likenothing on earth. we looked at each other and smiled wanly.but in the morning i remembered that there were children at the next bungalow but one. we went there before breakfast and borrowedtheir nurse. women are wonderful, by george they are!she had that kid dressed and looking fit for anything in about eight minutes. i showered wealth on her, and she promisedto come in morning and evening. i sat down to breakfast almost cheerfulagain.

it was the first bit of silver lining therehad been to the cloud up to date. "and after all," i said, "there's lots tobe said for having a child about the house, if you know what i mean. kind of cosy and domestic--what!" just then the kid upset the milk overfreddie's trousers, and when he had come back after changing his clothes he began totalk about what a much-maligned man king herod was. the more he saw of tootles, he said, theless he wondered at those impulsive views of his on infanticide.two days later jimmy pinkerton came down.

jimmy took one look at the kid, whohappened to be howling at the moment, and picked up his portmanteau."for me," he said, "the hotel. i can't write dialogue with that sort ofthing going on. whose work is this?which of you adopted this little treasure?" i told him about mr. medwin and the mumps. jimmy seemed interested."i might work this up for the stage," he said."it wouldn't make a bad situation for act two of a farce." "farce!" snarled poor old freddie."rather.

curtain of act one on hero, a well-meaning,half-baked sort of idiot just like--that is to say, a well-meaning, half-baked sort ofidiot, kidnapping the child. second act, his adventures with it. i'll rough it out to-night.come along and show me the hotel, reggie." as we went i told him the rest of thestory--the angela part. he laid down his portmanteau and looked atme like an owl through his glasses. "what!" he said."why, hang it, this is a play, ready-made. it's the old 'tiny hand' business. always safe stuff.parted lovers.

lisping child.reconciliation over the little cradle. it's big. child, centre.girl l.c.; freddie, up stage, by the piano. can freddie play the piano?""he can play a little of 'the rosary' with one finger." jimmy shook his head."no; we shall have to cut out the soft music.but the rest's all right. look here." he squatted in the sand."this stone is the girl.

this bit of seaweed's the child.this nutshell is freddie. dialogue leading up to child's line. child speaks like, 'boofer lady, does 'oolove dadda?' business of outstretched hands.hold picture for a moment. freddie crosses l., takes girl's hand. business of swallowing lump in throat.then big speech. 'ah, marie,' or whatever her name is--jane--agnes--angela? very well. 'ah, angela, has not this gone on too long?a little child rebukes us!

angela!'and so on. freddie must work up his own part. i'm just giving you the general outline.and we must get a good line for the child. 'boofer lady, does 'oo love dadda?' isn'tdefinite enough. we want something more--ah! 'kiss freddie,' that's it.short, crisp, and has the punch." "but, jimmy, old top," i said, "the onlyobjection is, don't you know, that there's no way of getting the girl to the cottage. she cuts freddie.she wouldn't come within a mile of him."

jimmy frowned."that's awkward," he said. "well, we shall have to make it an exteriorset instead of an interior. we can easily corner her on the beachsomewhere, when we're ready. meanwhile, we must get the kid letter-perfect. first rehearsal for lines and businesseleven sharp to-morrow." poor old freddie was in such a gloomy stateof mind that we decided not to tell him the idea till we had finished coaching the kid.he wasn't in the mood to have a thing like that hanging over him. so we concentrated on tootles.

and pretty early in the proceedings we sawthat the only way to get tootles worked up to the spirit of the thing was to introducesweets of some sort as a sub-motive, so to speak. "the chief difficulty," said jimmypinkerton at the end of the first rehearsal, "is to establish a connection inthe kid's mind between his line and the sweets. once he has grasped the basic fact thatthose two words, clearly spoken, result automatically in acid-drops, we have got asuccess." i've often thought, don't you know, howinteresting it must be to be one of those

animal-trainer johnnies: to stimulate thedawning intelligence, and that sort of thing. well, this was every bit as exciting.some days success seemed to be staring us in the eye, and the kid got the line out asif he'd been an old professional. and then he'd go all to pieces again. and time was flying."we must hurry up, jimmy," i said. "the kid's uncle may arrive any day now andtake him away." "and we haven't an understudy," said jimmy. "there's something in that.we must work!

my goodness, that kid's a bad study.i've known deaf-mutes who would have learned the part quicker." i will say this for the kid, though: he wasa trier. failure didn't discourage him. whenever there was any kind of sweet nearhe had a dash at his line, and kept on saying something till he got what he wasafter. his only fault was his uncertainty. personally, i would have been prepared torisk it, and start the performance at the first opportunity, but jimmy said no."we're not nearly ready," said jimmy.

"to-day, for instance, he said 'kickfreddie.' that's not going to win any girl's heart.and she might do it, too. no; we must postpone production awhileyet." but, by george, we didn't.the curtain went up the very next afternoon. it was nobody's fault--certainly not mine.it was just fate. freddie had settled down at the piano, andi was leading the kid out of the house to exercise it, when, just as we'd got out tothe veranda, along came the girl angela on her way to the beach.

the kid set up his usual yell at the sightof her, and she stopped at the foot of the steps."hello, baby!" she said. "good morning," she said to me. "may i come up?"she didn't wait for an answer. she just came.she seemed to be that sort of girl. she came up on the veranda and startedfussing over the kid. and six feet away, mind you, freddiesmiting the piano in the sitting-room. it was a dash disturbing situation, don'tyou know. at any minute freddie might take it intohis head to come out on to the veranda, and

we hadn't even begun to rehearse him in hispart. i tried to break up the scene. "we were just going down to the beach," isaid. "yes?" said the girl.she listened for a moment. "so you're having your piano tuned?" shesaid. "my aunt has been trying to find a tunerfor ours. do you mind if i go in and tell this man tocome on to us when he's finished here?" "er--not yet!"i said. "not yet, if you don't mind.

he can't bear to be disturbed when he'sworking. it's the artistic temperament.i'll tell him later." "very well," she said, getting up to go. "ask him to call at pine bungalow.west is the name. oh, he seems to have stopped.i suppose he will be out in a minute now. i'll wait." "don't you think--shouldn't we be going onto the beach?" i said.she had started talking to the kid and didn't hear.

she was feeling in her pocket forsomething. "the beach," i babbled."see what i've brought for you, baby," she said. and, by george, don't you know, she held upin front of the kid's bulging eyes a chunk of toffee about the size of the automobileclub. that finished it. we had just been having a long rehearsal,and the kid was all worked up in his part. he got it right first time."kiss fweddie!" he shouted. and the front door opened, and freddie cameout on to the veranda, for all the world as

if he had been taking a cue.he looked at the girl, and the girl looked at him. i looked at the ground, and the kid lookedat the toffee. "kiss fweddie!" he yelled."kiss fweddie!" the girl was still holding up the toffee,and the kid did what jimmy pinkerton would have called "business of outstretchedhands" towards it. "kiss fweddie!" he shrieked. "what does this mean?" said the girl,turning to me. "you'd better give it to him, don't youknow," i said.

"he'll go on till you do." she gave the kid his toffee, and hesubsided. poor old freddie still stood there gaping,without a word. "what does it mean?" said the girl again. her face was pink, and her eyes weresparkling in the sort of way, don't you know, that makes a fellow feel as if hehadn't any bones in him, if you know what i did you ever tread on your partner's dressat a dance and tear it, and see her smile at you like an angel and say: "please don'tapologize. it's nothing," and then suddenly meet herclear blue eyes and feel as if you had

stepped on the teeth of a rake and had thehandle jump up and hit you in the face? well, that's how freddie's angela looked. "well?" she said, and her teeth gave alittle click. i gulped.then i said it was nothing. then i said it was nothing much. then i said, "oh, well, it was this way."and, after a few brief remarks about jimmy pinkerton, i told her all about it.and all the while idiot freddie stood there gaping, without a word. and the girl didn't speak, either.she just stood listening.

and then she began to laugh.i never heard a girl laugh so much. she leaned against the side of the verandaand shrieked. and all the while freddie, the world'schampion chump, stood there, saying nothing. well i sidled towards the steps.i had said all i had to say, and it seemed to me that about here the stage-direction"exit" was written in my part. i gave poor old freddie up in despair. if only he had said a word, it might havebeen all right. but there he stood, speechless.what can a fellow do with a fellow like

that? just out of sight of the house i met jimmypinkerton. "hello, reggie!" he said."i was just coming to you. where's the kid? we must have a big rehearsal to-day.""no good," i said sadly. "it's all over.the thing's finished. poor dear old freddie has made an ass ofhimself and killed the whole show." "tell me," said jimmy.i told him. "fluffed in his lines, did he?" said jimmy,nodding thoughtfully.

"it's always the way with these amateurs.we must go back at once. things look bad, but it may not be toolate," he said as we started. "even now a few well-chosen words from aman of the world, and----" "great scot!" i cried."look!" in front of the cottage stood six children,a nurse, and the fellow from the grocer's staring. from the windows of the houses oppositeprojected about four hundred heads of both sexes, staring.

down the road came galloping five morechildren, a dog, three men, and a boy, about to stare. and on our porch, as unconscious of thespectators as if they had been alone in the sahara, stood freddie and angela, claspedin each other's arms. dear old freddie may have been fluffy inhis lines, but, by george, his business had certainly gone with a bang! > chapter 6 rallying round old george i think one of the rummiest affairs i wasever mixed up with, in the course of a

lifetime devoted to butting into otherpeople's business, was that affair of george lattaker at monte carlo. i wouldn't bore you, don't you know, forthe world, but i think you ought to hear about it. we had come to monte carlo on the yachtcirce, belonging to an old sportsman of the name of marshall. among those present were myself, my manvoules, a mrs. vanderley, her daughter stella, mrs. vanderley's maid pilbeam andgeorge. george was a dear old pal of mine.

in fact, it was i who had worked him intothe party. you see, george was due to meet his uncleaugustus, who was scheduled, george having just reached his twenty-fifth birthday, tohand over to him a legacy left by one of george's aunts, for which he had beentrustee. the aunt had died when george was quite akid. it was a date that george had been lookingforward to; for, though he had a sort of income--an income, after-all, is only anincome, whereas a chunk of o' goblins is a pile. george's uncle was in monte carlo, and hadwritten george that he would come to london

and unbelt; but it struck me that a farbetter plan was for george to go to his uncle at monte carlo instead. kill two birds with one stone, don't youknow. fix up his affairs and have a pleasantholiday simultaneously. so george had tagged along, and at the timewhen the trouble started we were anchored in monaco harbour, and uncle augustus wasdue next day. looking back, i may say that, so far as iwas mixed up in it, the thing began at seven o'clock in the morning, when i wasaroused from a dreamless sleep by the dickens of a scrap in progress outside mystate-room door.

the chief ingredients were a female voicethat sobbed and said: "oh, harold!" and a male voice "raised in anger," as they say,which after considerable difficulty, i identified as voules's. i hardly recognized it.in his official capacity voules talks exactly like you'd expect a statue to talk,if it could. in private, however, he evidently relaxedto some extent, and to have that sort of thing going on in my midst at that hour wastoo much for me. "voules!" i yelled.spion kop ceased with a jerk.

there was silence, then sobs diminishing inthe distance, and finally a tap at the door. voules entered with that impressive, my-lord-the-carriage-waits look which is what i pay him for.you wouldn't have believed he had a drop of any sort of emotion in him. "voules," i said, "are you under thedelusion that i'm going to be queen of the may?you've called me early all right. it's only just seven." "i understood you to summon me, sir.""i summoned you to find out why you were

making that infernal noise outside.""i owe you an apology, sir. i am afraid that in the heat of the momenti raised my voice." "it's a wonder you didn't raise the roof.who was that with you?" "miss pilbeam, sir; mrs. vanderley's maid." "what was all the trouble about?""i was breaking our engagement, sir." i couldn't help gaping.somehow one didn't associate voules with engagements. then it struck me that i'd no right to buttin on his secret sorrows, so i switched the conversation."i think i'll get up," i said.

"yes, sir." "i can't wait to breakfast with the rest.can you get me some right away?" "yes, sir."so i had a solitary breakfast and went up on deck to smoke. it was a lovely morning.blue sea, gleaming casino, cloudless sky, and all the rest of the hippodrome.presently the others began to trickle up. stella vanderley was one of the first. i thought she looked a bit pale and tired.she said she hadn't slept well. that accounted for it.unless you get your eight hours, where are

you? "seen george?"i asked. i couldn't help thinking the name seemed tofreeze her a bit. which was queer, because all the voyage sheand george had been particularly close pals. in fact, at any moment i expected george tocome to me and slip his little hand in mine, and whisper: "i've done it, oldscout; she loves muh!" "i have not seen mr. lattaker," she said. i didn't pursue the subject.george's stock was apparently low that a.m.

the next item in the day's programmeoccurred a few minutes later when the morning papers arrived. mrs. vanderley opened hers and gave ascream. "the poor, dear prince!" she said."what a shocking thing!" said old marshall. "i knew him in vienna," said mrs.vanderley. "he waltzed divinely."then i got at mine and saw what they were talking about. the paper was full of it. it seemed that late the night before hisserene highness the prince of saxburg-

leignitz (i always wonder why they callthese chaps "serene") had been murderously assaulted in a dark street on his way backfrom the casino to his yacht. apparently he had developed the habit ofgoing about without an escort, and some rough-neck, taking advantage of this, hadlaid for him and slugged him with considerable vim. the prince had been found lying pretty wellbeaten up and insensible in the street by a passing pedestrian, and had been taken backto his yacht, where he still lay unconscious. "this is going to do somebody no good," isaid.

"what do you get for slugging a serenehighness? i wonder if they'll catch the fellow?" "'later,'" read old marshall, "'thepedestrian who discovered his serene highness proves to have been mr. denmansturgis, the eminent private investigator. mr. sturgis has offered his services to thepolice, and is understood to be in possession of a most important clue.'that's the fellow who had charge of that kidnapping case in chicago. if anyone can catch the man, he can."about five minutes later, just as the rest of them were going to move off tobreakfast, a boat hailed us and came

alongside. a tall, thin man came up the gangway.he looked round the group, and fixed on old marshall as the probable owner of theyacht. "good morning," he said. "i believe you have a mr. lattaker onboard--mr. george lattaker?" "yes," said marshall."he's down below. want to see him? whom shall i say?""he would not know my name. i should like to see him for a moment onsomewhat urgent business."

"take a seat. he'll be up in a moment.reggie, my boy, go and hurry him up." i went down to george's state-room."george, old man!" i shouted. no answer.i opened the door and went in. the room was empty.what's more, the bunk hadn't been slept in. i don't know when i've been more surprised. i went on deck."he isn't there," i said. "not there!" said old marshall."where is he, then?

perhaps he's gone for a stroll ashore. but he'll be back soon for breakfast.you'd better wait for him. have you breakfasted?no? then will you join us?" the man said he would, and just then thegong went and they trooped down, leaving me alone on deck. i sat smoking and thinking, and thensmoking a bit more, when i thought i heard somebody call my name in a sort of hoarsewhisper. i looked over my shoulder, and, by jove,there at the top of the gangway in evening

dress, dusty to the eyebrows and without ahat, was dear old george. i cried."'sh!" he whispered. "anyone about?""they're all down at breakfast." he gave a sigh of relief, sank into mychair, and closed his eyes. i regarded him with pity.the poor old boy looked a wreck. "i say!" i said, touching him on the shoulder.he leaped out of the chair with a smothered yell."did you do that? what did you do it for?

what's the sense of it?how do you suppose you can ever make yourself popular if you go about touchingpeople on the shoulder? my nerves are sticking a yard out of mybody this morning, reggie!" "yes, old boy?""i did a murder last night." "what?" "it's the sort of thing that might happento anybody. directly stella vanderley broke off ourengagement i----" "broke off your engagement? how long were you engaged?""about two minutes.

it may have been less.i hadn't a stop-watch. i proposed to her at ten last night in thesaloon. she accepted me.i was just going to kiss her when we heard someone coming. i went out.coming along the corridor was that infernal what's-her-name--mrs. vanderley's maid--pilbeam. have you ever been accepted by the girl youlove, reggie?" "never.i've been refused dozens----" "then you won't understand how i felt.

i was off my head with joy.i hardly knew what i was doing. i just felt i had to kiss the nearest thinghandy. i couldn't wait. it might have been the ship's cat.it wasn't. it was pilbeam.""you kissed her?" "i kissed her. and just at that moment the door of thesaloon opened and out came stella." "great scott!""exactly what i said. it flashed across me that to stella, deargirl, not knowing the circumstances, the

thing might seem a little odd.it did. she broke off the engagement, and i got outthe dinghy and rowed off. i was mad.i didn't care what became of me. i simply wanted to forget. i went ashore.i--it's just on the cards that i may have drowned my sorrows a bit. anyhow, i don't remember a thing, exceptthat i can recollect having the deuce of a scrap with somebody in a dark street andsomebody falling, and myself falling, and myself legging it for all i was worth.

i woke up this morning in the casinogardens. i've lost my hat."i dived for the paper. "read," i said. "it's all there."he read. "good heavens!" he said."you didn't do a thing to his serene nibs, did you?" "reggie, this is awful.""cheer up. they say he'll recover.""that doesn't matter." "it does to him."

he read the paper again."it says they've a clue." "they always say that.""but--my hat!" "eh?" "my hat.i must have dropped it during the scrap. this man, denman sturgis, must have foundit. it had my name in it!" "george," i said, "you mustn't waste time.oh!" he jumped a foot in the air."don't do it!" he said, irritably. "don't bark like that.

what's the matter?""the man!" "what man?""a tall, thin man with an eye like a gimlet. he arrived just before you did.he's down in the saloon now, having breakfast.he said he wanted to see you on business, and wouldn't give his name. i didn't like the look of him from thefirst. it's this fellow sturgis.it must be." "no!"

"i feel it.i'm sure of it." "had he a hat?""of course he had a hat." "fool! i mean mine.was he carrying a hat?" "by jove, he was carrying a parcel.george, old scout, you must get a move on. you must light out if you want to spend therest of your life out of prison. slugging a serene highness is lese-majeste.it's worse than hitting a policeman. you haven't got a moment to waste." "but i haven't any money.reggie, old man, lend me a tenner or

something.i must get over the frontier into italy at once. i'll wire my uncle to meet me in----""look out," i cried; "there's someone coming!" he dived out of sight just as voules cameup the companion-way, carrying a letter on a tray."what's the matter!" i said. "what do you want?""i beg your pardon, sir. i thought i heard mr. lattaker's voice.a letter has arrived for him."

"he isn't here." "no, sir.shall i remove the letter?" "no; give it to me.i'll give it to him when he comes." "very good, sir." "oh, voules!are they all still at breakfast? the gentleman who came to see mr. lattaker?still hard at it?" "he is at present occupied with a kipperedherring, sir." "ah!that's all, voules." "thank you, sir."

he retired.i called to george, and he came out. "who was it?""only voules. he brought a letter for you. they're all at breakfast still.the sleuth's eating kippers." "that'll hold him for a bit.full of bones." he began to read his letter. he gave a kind of grunt of surprise at thefirst paragraph. "well, i'm hanged!" he said, as hefinished. "reggie, this is a queer thing."

"what's that?"he handed me the letter, and directly i started in on it i saw why he had grunted.this is how it ran: "my dear george--i shall be seeing you to-morrow, i hope; but i think it is better, before we meet, to prepare you for acurious situation that has arisen in connection with the legacy which your father inherited from your aunt emily, andwhich you are expecting me, as trustee, to hand over to you, now that you have reachedyour twenty-fifth birthday. you have doubtless heard your father speakof your twin-brother alfred, who was lost or kidnapped--which, was never ascertained--when you were both babies.

when no news was received of him for somany years, it was supposed that he was dead. yesterday, however, i received a letterpurporting that he had been living all this time in buenos ayres as the adopted son ofa wealthy south american, and has only recently discovered his identity. he states that he is on his way to meet me,and will arrive any day now. of course, like other claimants, he mayprove to be an impostor, but meanwhile his intervention will, i fear, cause a certaindelay before i can hand over your money to you.

it will be necessary to go into a thoroughexamination of credentials, etc., and this will take some time.but i will go fully into the matter with you when we meet.--your affectionate uncle, "augustus arbutt." i read it through twice, and the secondtime i had one of those ideas i do sometimes get, though admittedly a chump ofthe premier class. i have seldom had such a thoroughly corkingbrain-wave. "why, old top," i said, "this lets youout." "lets me out of half the darned money, ifthat's what you mean.

if this chap's not an imposter--and there'sno earthly reason to suppose he is, though i've never heard my father say a word abouthim--we shall have to split the money. aunt emily's will left the money to myfather, or, failing him, his 'offspring.' i thought that meant me, but apparentlythere are a crowd of us. i call it rotten work, springing unexpectedoffspring on a fellow at the eleventh hour like this.""why, you chump," i said, "it's going to save you. this lets you out of your spectacular dashacross the frontier. all you've got to do is to stay here and beyour brother alfred.

it came to me in a flash." he looked at me in a kind of dazed way."you ought to be in some sort of a home, reggie.""ass!" i cried. "don't you understand?have you ever heard of twin-brothers who weren't exactly alike?who's to say you aren't alfred if you swear you are? your uncle will be there to back you upthat you have a brother alfred." "and alfred will be there to call me aliar."

"he won't. it's not as if you had to keep it up forthe rest of your life. it's only for an hour or two, till we canget this detective off the yacht. we sail for england to-morrow morning." at last the thing seemed to sink into him.his face brightened. "why, i really do believe it would work,"he said. "of course it would work. if they want proof, show them your mole.i'll swear george hadn't one." "and as alfred i should get a chance oftalking to stella and making things all

right for george. reggie, old top, you're a genius.""no, no." "you are.""well, it's only sometimes. i can't keep it up." and just then there was a gentle coughbehind us. we spun round."what the devil are you doing here, voules," i said. "i beg your pardon, sir.i have heard all." i looked at george.george looked at me.

"voules is all right," i said. "decent voules!voules wouldn't give us away, would you, voules?""yes, sir." "you would?" "yes, sir.""but, voules, old man," i said, "be sensible.what would you gain by it?" "financially, sir, nothing." "whereas, by keeping quiet"--i tapped himon the chest--"by holding your tongue, voules, by saying nothing about it toanybody, voules, old fellow, you might gain

a considerable sum." "am i to understand, sir, that, because youare rich and i am poor, you think that you can buy my self-respect?""oh, come!" "how much?" said voules.so we switched to terms. you wouldn't believe the way the manhaggled. you'd have thought a decent, faithfulservant would have been delighted to oblige one in a little matter like that for afiver. but not voules. by no means.it was a hundred down, and the promise of

another hundred when we had got safelyaway, before he was satisfied. but we fixed it up at last, and poor oldgeorge got down to his state-room and changed his clothes.he'd hardly gone when the breakfast-party came on deck. "did you meet him?"i asked. "meet whom?" said old marshall."george's twin-brother alfred." "i didn't know george had a brother." "nor did he till yesterday.it's a long story. he was kidnapped in infancy, and everyonethought he was dead.

george had a letter from his uncle abouthim yesterday. i shouldn't wonder if that's where georgehas gone, to see his uncle and find out in the meantime, alfred has arrived.he's down in george's state-room now, having a brush-up.it'll amaze you, the likeness between them. you'll think it is george at first. look!here he comes." and up came george, brushed and clean, inan ordinary yachting suit. they were rattled. there was no doubt about that.they stood looking at him, as if they

thought there was a catch somewhere, butweren't quite certain where it was. i introduced him, and still they lookeddoubtful. "mr. pepper tells me my brother is not onboard," said george. "it's an amazing likeness," said oldmarshall. "is my brother like me?" asked georgeamiably. "no one could tell you apart," i said. "i suppose twins always are alike," saidgeorge. "but if it ever came to a question ofidentification, there would be one way of distinguishing us.

do you know george well, mr. pepper?""he's a dear old pal of mine." "you've been swimming with him perhaps?""every day last august." "well, then, you would have noticed it ifhe had had a mole like this on the back of his neck, wouldn't you?"he turned his back and stooped and showed the mole. his collar hid it at ordinary times.i had seen it often when we were bathing together."has george a mole like that?" he asked. "no," i said. "oh, no.""you would have noticed it if he had?"

"yes," i said."oh, yes." "i'm glad of that," said george. "it would be a nuisance not to be able toprove one's own identity." that seemed to satisfy them all.they couldn't get away from it. it seemed to me that from now on the thingwas a walk-over. and i think george felt the same, for, whenold marshall asked him if he had had breakfast, he said he had not, went below,and pitched in as if he hadn't a care in the world. everything went right till lunch-time.george sat in the shade on the foredeck

talking to stella most of the time.when the gong went and the rest had started to go below, he drew me back. he was beaming."it's all right," he said. "what did i tell you?""what did you tell me?" "why, about stella. didn't i say that alfred would fix thingsfor george? i told her she looked worried, and got herto tell me what the trouble was. and then----" "you must have shown a flash of speed ifyou got her to confide in you after knowing

you for about two hours." "perhaps i did," said george modestly, "ihad no notion, till i became him, what a persuasive sort of chap my brother alfredwas. anyway, she told me all about it, and istarted in to show her that george was a pretty good sort of fellow on the whole,who oughtn't to be turned down for what was evidently merely temporary insanity. she saw my point.""and it's all right?" "absolutely, if only we can produce george.how much longer does that infernal sleuth intend to stay here?

he seems to have taken root.""i fancy he thinks that you're bound to come back sooner or later, and is waitingfor you." "he's an absolute nuisance," said george. we were moving towards the companion way,to go below for lunch, when a boat hailed us.we went to the side and looked over. "it's my uncle," said george. a stout man came up the gangway."halloa, george!" he said. "get my letter?""i think you are mistaking me for my brother," said george.

"my name is alfred lattaker.""what's that?" "i am george's brother alfred.are you my uncle augustus?" the stout man stared at him. "you're very like george," he said."so everyone tells me." "and you're really alfred?""i am." "i'd like to talk business with you for amoment." he cocked his eye at me.i sidled off and went below. at the foot of the companion-steps i metvoules, "i beg your pardon, sir," said voules."if it would be convenient i should be glad

to have the afternoon off." i'm bound to say i rather liked his manner.absolutely normal. not a trace of the fellow-conspirator aboutit. i gave him the afternoon off. i had lunch--george didn't show up--and asi was going out i was waylaid by the girl pilbeam.she had been crying. "i beg your pardon, sir, but did mr. voulesask you for the afternoon?" i didn't see what business if was of hers,but she seemed all worked up about it, so i told her.

"yes, i have given him the afternoon off."she broke down--absolutely collapsed. devilish unpleasant it was.i'm hopeless in a situation like this. after i'd said, "there, there!" whichdidn't seem to help much, i hadn't any remarks to make. "he s-said he was going to the tables togamble away all his savings and then shoot himself, because he had nothing left tolive for." i suddenly remembered the scrap in thesmall hours outside my state-room door. i hate mysteries.i meant to get to the bottom of this. i couldn't have a really first-class valetlike voules going about the place shooting

himself up.evidently the girl pilbeam was at the bottom of the thing. i questioned her.she sobbed. i questioned her more.i was firm. and eventually she yielded up the facts. voules had seen george kiss her the nightbefore; that was the trouble. things began to piece themselves together.i went up to interview george. there was going to be another job forpersuasive alfred. voules's mind had got to be eased asstella's had been.

i couldn't afford to lose a fellow with hisgenius for preserving a trouser-crease. i found george on the foredeck. what is it shakespeare or somebody saysabout some fellow's face being sicklied o'er with the pale cast of care?george's was like that. he looked green. "finished with your uncle?"i said. he grinned a ghostly grin."there isn't any uncle," he said. "there isn't any alfred. and there isn't any money.""explain yourself, old top," i said.

"it won't take long.the old crook has spent every penny of the trust money. he's been at it for years, ever since i wasa kid. when the time came to cough up, and i wasdue to see that he did it, he went to the tables in the hope of a run of luck, andlost the last remnant of the stuff. he had to find a way of holding me for awhile and postponing the squaring of accounts while he got away, and he inventedthis twin-brother business. he knew i should find out sooner or later,but meanwhile he would be able to get off to south america, which he has done.he's on his way now."

"you let him go?" "what could i do?i can't afford to make a fuss with that man sturgis around. i can't prove there's no alfred when myonly chance of avoiding prison is to be alfred." "well, you've made things right foryourself with stella vanderley, anyway," i said, to cheer him up."what's the good of that now? i've hardly any money and no prospects. how can i marry her?"i pondered.

"it looks to me, old top," i said at last,"as if things were in a bit of a mess." "you've guessed it," said poor old george. i spent the afternoon musing on life.if you come to think of it, what a queer thing life is!so unlike anything else, don't you know, if you see what i mean. at any moment you may be strollingpeacefully along, and all the time life's waiting around the corner to fetch you one.you can't tell when you may be going to get it. it's all dashed puzzling.here was poor old george, as well-meaning a

fellow as ever stepped, getting swatted allover the ring by the hand of fate. why? that's what i asked myself.just life, don't you know. that's all there was about it.it was close on six o'clock when our third visitor of the day arrived. we were sitting on the afterdeck in thecool of the evening--old marshall, denman sturgis, mrs. vanderley, stella, george,and i--when he came up. we had been talking of george, and oldmarshall was suggesting the advisability of sending out search-parties.he was worried.

so was stella vanderley. so, for that matter, were george and i,only not for the same reason. we were just arguing the thing out when thevisitor appeared. he was a well-built, stiff sort of fellow. he spoke with a german accent."mr. marshall?" he said. "i am count fritz von coslin, equerry tohis serene highness"--he clicked his heels together and saluted--"the prince ofsaxburg-leignitz." mrs. vanderley jumped up. "why, count," she said, "what ages since wemet in vienna!

you remember?""could i ever forget? and the charming miss stella, she is well,i suppose not?" "stella, you remember count fritz?"stella shook hands with him. "and how is the poor, dear prince?" askedmrs. vanderley. "what a terrible thing to have happened!""i rejoice to say that my high-born master is better. he has regained consciousness and issitting up and taking nourishment." "that's good," said old marshall."in a spoon only," sighed the count. "mr. marshall, with your permission ishould like a word with mr. sturgis."

"mr. who?"the gimlet-eyed sportsman came forward. "i am denman sturgis, at your service." "the deuce you are!what are you doing here?" "mr. sturgis," explained the count,"graciously volunteered his services----" "i know. but what's he doing here?""i am waiting for mr. george lattaker, mr. marshall.""eh?" "you have not found him?" asked the countanxiously. "not yet, count; but i hope to do soshortly.

i know what he looks like now. this gentleman is his twin-brother.they are doubles." "you are sure this gentleman is not mr.george lattaker?" george put his foot down firmly on thesuggestion. "don't go mixing me up with my brother," hesaid. "i am alfred. you can tell me by my mole."he exhibited the mole. he was taking no risks.the count clicked his tongue regretfully. "i am sorry," he said.

george didn't offer to console him,"don't worry," said sturgis. "he won't escape me.i shall find him." "do, mr. sturgis, do. and quickly.find swiftly that noble young man." "what?" shouted george. "that noble young man, george lattaker,who, at the risk of his life, saved my high-born master from the assassin."george sat down suddenly. "i don't understand," he said feebly. "we were wrong, mr. sturgis," went on thecount.

"we leaped to the conclusion--was it notso?--that the owner of the hat you found was also the assailant of my high-bornmaster. we were wrong. i have heard the story from his serenehighness's own lips. he was passing down a dark street when aruffian in a mask sprang out upon him. doubtless he had been followed from thecasino, where he had been winning heavily. my high-born master was taken by surprise.he was felled. but before he lost consciousness heperceived a young man in evening dress, wearing the hat you found, running swiftlytowards him.

the hero engaged the assassin in combat,and my high-born master remembers no more. his serene highness asks repeatedly, 'whereis my brave preserver?' his gratitude is princely. he seeks for this young man to reward him.ah, you should be proud of your brother, sir!""thanks," said george limply. "and you, mr. sturgis, you must redoubleyour efforts. you must search the land; you must scourthe sea to find george lattaker." "he needn't take all that trouble," said avoice from the gangway. it was voules.

his face was flushed, his hat was on theback of his head, and he was smoking a fat cigar."i'll tell you where to find george lattaker!" he shouted. he glared at george, who was staring athim. "yes, look at me," he yelled."look at me. you won't be the first this afternoon who'sstared at the mysterious stranger who won for two hours without a break.i'll be even with you now, mr. blooming lattaker. i'll learn you to break a poor man's heart.mr. marshall and gents, this morning i was

on deck, and i over'eard 'im plotting toput up a game on you. they'd spotted that gent there as adetective, and they arranged that blooming lattaker was to pass himself off as his owntwin-brother. and if you wanted proof, blooming peppertells him to show them his mole and he'd swear george hadn't one.those were his very words. that man there is george lattaker,hesquire, and let him deny it if he can." george got up."i haven't the least desire to deny it, voules." "mr. voules, if you please.""it's true," said george, turning to the

count."the fact is, i had rather a foggy recollection of what happened last night. i only remembered knocking some one down,and, like you, i jumped to the conclusion that i must have assaulted his serenehighness." "then you are really george lattaker?"asked the count. "i am.""'ere, what does all this mean?" demanded voules. "merely that i saved the life of his serenehighness the prince of saxburg-leignitz, mr. voules."

"it's a swindle!" began voules, when therewas a sudden rush and the girl pilbeam cannoned into the crowd, sending me intoold marshall's chair, and flung herself into the arms of voules. "oh, harold!" she cried."i thought you were dead. i thought you'd shot yourself." he sort of braced himself together to flingher off, and then he seemed to think better of it and fell into the clinch.it was all dashed romantic, don't you know, but there are limits. "voules, you're sacked," i said."who cares?" he said.

"think i was going to stop on now i'm agentleman of property? come along, emma, my dear. give a month's notice and get your 'at, andi'll take you to dinner at ciro's." "and you, mr. lattaker," said the count,"may i conduct you to the presence of my high-born master? he wishes to show his gratitude to hispreserver." "you may," said george."may i have my hat, mr. sturgis?" there's just one bit more. after dinner that night i came up for asmoke, and, strolling on to the foredeck,

almost bumped into george and stella.they seemed to be having an argument. "i'm not sure," she was saying, "that ibelieve that a man can be so happy that he wants to kiss the nearest thing in sight,as you put it." "don't you?" said george. "well, as it happens, i'm feeling just thatway now." i coughed and he turned round."halloa, reggie!" he said. "halloa, george!" i said."lovely night." "beautiful," said stella."the moon," i said.

"ripping," said george. "lovely," said stella."and look at the reflection of the stars on the----"george caught my eye. "pop off," he said. i popped. chapter 7 doing clarence a bit of good have you ever thought about--and, when isay thought about, i mean really carefully considered the question of--the coolness,the cheek, or, if you prefer it, the gall with which woman, as a sex, fairly bursts?

i have, by jove!but then i've had it thrust on my notice, by george, in a way i should imagine hashappened to pretty few fellows. and the limit was reached by that businessof the yeardsley "venus." to make you understand the full what-d'you-call-it of the situation, i shall have to explain just how matters stood between mrs.yeardsley and myself. when i first knew her she was elizabethshoolbred. old worcestershire family; pots of money;pretty as a picture. her brother bill was at oxford with me. i loved elizabeth shoolbred.i loved her, don't you know.

and there was a time, for about a week,when we were engaged to be married. but just as i was beginning to take aserious view of life and study furniture catalogues and feel pretty solemn when therestaurant orchestra played "the wedding glide," i'm hanged if she didn't break it off, and a month later she was married to afellow of the name of yeardsley--clarence yeardsley, an artist. what with golf, and billiards, and a bit ofracing, and fellows at the club rallying round and kind of taking me out of myself,as it were, i got over it, and came to look on the affair as a closed page in the bookof my life, if you know what i mean.

it didn't seem likely to me that we shouldmeet again, as she and clarence had settled down in the country somewhere and nevercame to london, and i'm bound to own that, by the time i got her letter, the wound had pretty well healed, and i was to a certainextent sitting up and taking nourishment. in fact, to be absolutely honest, i wasjolly thankful the thing had ended as it had done. this letter i'm telling you about arrivedone morning out of a blue sky, as it were. it ran like this: "my dear old reggie,--what ages it seemssince i saw anything of you.

how are you? we have settled down here in the mostperfect old house, with a lovely garden, in the middle of delightful country.couldn't you run down here for a few days? clarence and i would be so glad to see you. bill is here, and is most anxious to meetyou again. he was speaking of you only this morning.do come. wire your train, and i will send the car tomeet you. --yours most sincerely,elizabeth yeardsley. "p.s.--we can give you new milk and fresheggs.

think of that!"p.p.s.--bill says our billiard-table is one of the best he has ever played on. "p.p.s.s.--we are only half a mile from agolf course. bill says it is better than st. andrews."p.p.s.s.s.--you must come!" well, a fellow comes down to breakfast onemorning, with a bit of a head on, and finds a letter like that from a girl who mightquite easily have blighted his life! it rattled me rather, i must confess. however, that bit about the golf settledme. i knew bill knew what he was talking about,and, if he said the course was so topping,

it must be something special. so i went.old bill met me at the station with the car.i hadn't come across him for some months, and i was glad to see him again. and he apparently was glad to see me."thank goodness you've come," he said, as we drove off."i was just about at my last grip." "what's the trouble, old scout?" i asked."if i had the artistic what's-its-name," he went on, "if the mere mention of picturesdidn't give me the pip, i dare say it

wouldn't be so bad. as it is, it's rotten!""pictures?" "pictures.nothing else is mentioned in this household. clarence is an artist.so is his father. and you know yourself what elizabeth islike when one gives her her head?" i remembered then--it hadn't come back tome before--that most of my time with elizabeth had been spent in picture-galleries. during the period when i had let her dojust what she wanted to do with me, i had

had to follow her like a dog throughgallery after gallery, though pictures are poison to me, just as they are to old bill. somehow it had never struck me that shewould still be going on in this way after marrying an artist. i should have thought that by this time themere sight of a picture would have fed her up.not so, however, according to old bill. "they talk pictures at every meal," hesaid. "i tell you, it makes a chap feel out ofit. how long are you down for?"

"a few days.""take my tip, and let me send you a wire from london.i go there to-morrow. i promised to play against the scottish. the idea was that i was to come back afterthe match. but you couldn't get me back with a lasso."i tried to point out the silver lining. "but, bill, old scout, your sister saysthere's a most corking links near here." he turned and stared at me, and nearly ranus into the bank. "you don't mean honestly she said that?" "she said you said it was better than st.andrews."

"so i did.was that all she said i said?" "well, wasn't it enough?" "she didn't happen to mention that i addedthe words, 'i don't think'?" "no, she forgot to tell me that.""it's the worst course in great britain." i felt rather stunned, don't you know. whether it's a bad habit to have got intoor not, i can't say, but i simply can't do without my daily allowance of golf when i'mnot in london. i took another whirl at the silver lining. "we'll have to take it out in billiards,"i said.

"i'm glad the table's good.""it depends what you call good. it's half-size, and there's a seven-inchcut just out of baulk where clarence's cue slipped.elizabeth has mended it with pink silk. very smart and dressy it looks, but itdoesn't improve the thing as a billiard- table.""but she said you said----" "must have been pulling your leg." we turned in at the drive gates of a good-sized house standing well back from the road. it looked black and sinister in the dusk,and i couldn't help feeling, you know, like

one of those johnnies you read about instories who are lured to lonely houses for rummy purposes and hear a shriek just asthey get there. elizabeth knew me well enough to know thata specially good golf course was a safe draw to me. and she had deliberately played on herknowledge. what was the game?that was what i wanted to know. and then a sudden thought struck me whichbrought me out in a cold perspiration. she had some girl down here and was goingto have a stab at marrying me off. i've often heard that young married womenare all over that sort of thing.

certainly she had said there was nobody atthe house but clarence and herself and bill and clarence's father, but a woman whocould take the name of st. andrews in vain as she had done wouldn't be likely to stickat a trifle. "bill, old scout," i said, "there aren'tany frightful girls or any rot of that sort stopping here, are there?" "wish there were," he said."no such luck." as we pulled up at the front door, itopened, and a woman's figure appeared. "have you got him, bill?" she said, whichin my present frame of mind struck me as a jolly creepy way of putting it.the sort of thing lady macbeth might have

said to macbeth, don't you know. "do you mean me?"i said. she came down into the light.it was elizabeth, looking just the same as in the old days. "is that you, reggie?i'm so glad you were able to come. i was afraid you might have forgotten allabout it. you know what you are. come along in and have some tea."have you ever been turned down by a girl who afterwards married and then beenintroduced to her husband?

if so you'll understand how i felt whenclarence burst on me. you know the feeling. first of all, when you hear about themarriage, you say to yourself, "i wonder what he's like."then you meet him, and think, "there must be some mistake. she can't have preferred this to me!"that's what i thought, when i set eyes on clarence.he was a little thin, nervous-looking chappie of about thirty-five. his hair was getting grey at the templesand straggly on top.

he wore pince-nez, and he had a droopingmoustache. i'm no bombardier wells myself, but infront of clarence i felt quite a nut. and elizabeth, mind you, is one of thosetall, splendid girls who look like princesses. honestly, i believe women do it out of purecussedness. "how do you do, mr. pepper?hark! can you hear a mewing cat?" said clarence. all in one breath, don't you know."eh?" i said."a mewing cat.

i feel sure i hear a mewing cat. listen!"while we were listening the door opened, and a white-haired old gentleman came in.he was built on the same lines as clarence, but was an earlier model. i took him correctly, to be mr. yeardsley,senior. elizabeth introduced us."father," said clarence, "did you meet a mewing cat outside? i feel positive i heard a cat mewing.""no," said the father, shaking his head; "no mewing cat.""i can't bear mewing cats," said clarence.

"a mewing cat gets on my nerves!" "a mewing cat is so trying," saidelizabeth. "i dislike mewing cats," said old mr.yeardsley. that was all about mewing cats for themoment. they seemed to think they had covered theground satisfactorily, and they went back to pictures. we talked pictures steadily till it wastime to dress for dinner. at least, they did.i just sort of sat around. presently the subject of picture-robberiescame up.

somebody mentioned the "monna lisa," andthen i happened to remember seeing something in the evening paper, as i wascoming down in the train, about some fellow somewhere having had a valuable paintingpinched by burglars the night before. it was the first time i had had a chance ofbreaking into the conversation with any effect, and i meant to make the most of it. the paper was in the pocket of my overcoatin the hall. i went and fetched it."here it is," i said. "a romney belonging to sir bellamy palmer----" they all shouted "what!" exactly at thesame time, like a chorus.

elizabeth grabbed the paper. "let me look!yes. 'late last night burglars entered theresidence of sir bellamy palmer, dryden park, midford, hants----'" "why, that's near here," i said."i passed through midford----" "dryden park is only two miles from thishouse," said elizabeth. i noticed her eyes were sparkling. "only two miles!" she said."it might have been us! it might have been the 'venus'!"old mr. yeardsley bounded in his chair.

"the 'venus'!" he cried. they all seemed wonderfully excited.my little contribution to the evening's chat had made quite a hit. why i didn't notice it before i don't know,but it was not till elizabeth showed it to me after dinner that i had my first look atthe yeardsley "venus." when she led me up to it, and switched onthe light, it seemed impossible that i could have sat right through dinner withoutnoticing it. but then, at meals, my attention is prettywell riveted on the foodstuffs. anyway, it was not till elizabeth showed itto me that i was aware of its existence.

she and i were alone in the drawing-roomafter dinner. old yeardsley was writing letters in themorning-room, while bill and clarence were rollicking on the half-size billiard tablewith the pink silk tapestry effects. all, in fact, was joy, jollity, and song,so to speak, when elizabeth, who had been sitting wrapped in thought for a bit, benttowards me and said, "reggie." and the moment she said it i knew somethingwas going to happen. you know that pre-what-d'you-call-it youget sometimes? well, i got it then. "what-o?"i said nervously.

"reggie," she said, "i want to ask a greatfavour of you." "yes?" she stooped down and put a log on the fire,and went on, with her back to me: "do you remember, reggie, once saying youwould do anything in the world for me?" there! that's what i meant when i said that aboutthe cheek of woman as a sex. what i mean is, after what had happened,you'd have thought she would have preferred to let the dead past bury its dead, and allthat sort of thing, what? mind you, i had said i would do anything inthe world for her.

i admit that.but it was a distinctly pre-clarence remark. he hadn't appeared on the scene then, andit stands to reason that a fellow who may have been a perfect knight-errant to a girlwhen he was engaged to her, doesn't feel nearly so keen on spreading himself in that direction when she has given him the miss-in-baulk, and gone and married a man who reason and instinct both tell him is adecided blighter. i couldn't think of anything to say but"oh, yes." "there's something you can do for me now,which will make me everlastingly grateful."

"yes," i said. "do you know, reggie," she said suddenly,"that only a few months ago clarence was very fond of cats?""eh! well, he still seems--er--interested inthem, what?" "now they get on his nerves.everything gets on his nerves." "some fellows swear by that stuff you seeadvertised all over the----" "no, that wouldn't help him.he doesn't need to take anything. he wants to get rid of something." "i don't quite fellow.get rid of something?"

"the 'venus,'" said elizabeth.she looked up and caught my bulging eye. "you saw the 'venus,'" she said. "not that i remember.""well, come into the dining-room." we went into the dining-room, and sheswitched on the lights. "there," she said. on the wall close to the door--that mayhave been why i hadn't noticed it before; i had sat with my back to it--was a largeoil-painting. it was what you'd call a classical picture,i suppose. what i mean is--well, you know what i mean.all i can say is that it's funny i hadn't

noticed it. "is that the 'venus'?"i said. she nodded."how would you like to have to look at that every time you sat down to a meal?" "well, i don't know.i don't think it would affect me much. i'd worry through all right."she jerked her head impatiently. "but you're not an artist," she said. "clarence is."and then i began to see daylight. what exactly was the trouble i didn'tunderstand, but it was evidently something

to do with the good old artistictemperament, and i could believe anything about that. it explains everything.it's like the unwritten law, don't you know, which you plead in america if you'vedone anything they want to send you to chokey for and you don't want to go. what i mean is, if you're absolutely offyour rocker, but don't find it convenient to be scooped into the luny-bin, you simplyexplain that, when you said you were a teapot, it was just your artistic temperament, and they apologize and goaway.

so i stood by to hear just how the a.t. hadaffected clarence, the cat's friend, ready for anything. and, believe me, it had hit clarence badly.it was this way. it seemed that old yeardsley was an amateurartist and that this "venus" was his masterpiece. he said so, and he ought to have known.well, when clarence married, he had given it to him, as a wedding present, and hadhung it where it stood with his own hands. all right so far, what? but mark the sequel.temperamental clarence, being a

professional artist and consequently somestreets ahead of the dad at the game, saw flaws in the "venus." he couldn't stand it at any price.he didn't like the drawing. he didn't like the expression of the face.he didn't like the colouring. in fact, it made him feel quite ill to lookat it. yet, being devoted to his father andwanting to do anything rather than give him pain, he had not been able to bring himselfto store the thing in the cellar, and the strain of confronting the picture three times a day had begun to tell on him tosuch an extent that elizabeth felt

something had to be done."now you see," she said. "in a way," i said. "but don't you think it's making ratherheavy weather over a trifle?" "oh, can't you understand?look!" her voice dropped as if she was in church,and she switched on another light. it shone on the picture next to oldyeardsley's. "there!" she said. "clarence painted that!"she looked at me expectantly, as if she were waiting for me to swoon, or yell, orsomething.

i took a steady look at clarence's effort. it was another classical picture.it seemed to me very much like the other one.some sort of art criticism was evidently expected of me, so i made a dash at it. "er--'venus'?"i said. mark you, sherlock holmes would have madethe same mistake. on the evidence, i mean. "no.'jocund spring,'" she snapped. she switched off the light."i see you don't understand even now.

you never had any taste about pictures. when we used to go to the galleriestogether, you would far rather have been at your club."this was so absolutely true, that i had no remark to make. she came up to me, and put her hand on myarm. "i'm sorry, reggie.i didn't mean to be cross. only i do want to make you understand thatclarence is suffering. suppose--suppose--well, let us take thecase of a great musician. suppose a great musician had to sit andlisten to a cheap vulgar tune--the same

tune--day after day, day after day,wouldn't you expect his nerves to break! well, it's just like that with clarence. now you see?""yes, but----" "but what?surely i've put it plainly enough?" "yes. but what i mean is, where do i come in?what do you want me to do?" "i want you to steal the 'venus.'"i looked at her. "you want me to----?" "steal it.reggie!"

her eyes were shining with excitement."don't you see? it's providence. when i asked you to come here, i had justgot the idea. i knew i could rely on you. and then by a miracle this robbery of theromney takes place at a house not two miles away. it removes the last chance of the poor oldman suspecting anything and having his feelings hurt.why, it's the most wonderful compliment to think!one night thieves steal a splendid romney;

the next the same gang take his 'venus.'it will be the proudest moment of his life. do it to-night, reggie. i'll give you a sharp knife.you simply cut the canvas out of the frame, and it's done.""but one moment," i said. "i'd be delighted to be of any use to you,but in a purely family affair like this, wouldn't it be better--in fact, how abouttackling old bill on the subject?" "i have asked bill already. yesterday.he refused." "but if i'm caught?""you can't be.

all you have to do is to take the picture,open one of the windows, leave it open, and go back to your room."it sounded simple enough. "and as to the picture itself--when i'vegot it?" "burn it.i'll see that you have a good fire in your room." "but----"she looked at me. she always did have the most wonderfuleyes. "reggie," she said; nothing more. just "reggie."she looked at me.

"well, after all, if you see what i mean--the days that are no more, don't you know. auld lang syne, and all that sort of thing. you follow me?""all right," i said. "i'll do it." i don't know if you happen to be one ofthose johnnies who are steeped in crime, and so forth, and think nothing of pinchingdiamond necklaces. if you're not, you'll understand that ifelt a lot less keen on the job i'd taken on when i sat in my room, waiting to getbusy, than i had done when i promised to tackle it in the dining-room.

on paper it all seemed easy enough, but icouldn't help feeling there was a catch somewhere, and i've never known time passslower. the kick-off was scheduled for one o'clockin the morning, when the household might be expected to be pretty sound asleep, but ata quarter to i couldn't stand it any longer. i lit the lantern i had taken from bill'sbicycle, took a grip of my knife, and slunk downstairs.the first thing i did on getting to the dining-room was to open the window. i had half a mind to smash it, so as togive an extra bit of local colour to the

affair, but decided not to on account ofthe noise. i had put my lantern on the table, and wasjust reaching out for it, when something happened.what it was for the moment i couldn't have it might have been an explosion of somesort or an earthquake. some solid object caught me a frightfulwhack on the chin. sparks and things occurred inside my headand the next thing i remember is feeling something wet and cold splash into my face,and hearing a voice that sounded like old bill's say, "feeling better now?" i sat up.the lights were on, and i was on the floor,

with old bill kneeling beside me with asoda siphon. "what happened?" i said."i'm awfully sorry, old man," he said. "i hadn't a notion it was you. i came in here, and saw a lantern on thetable, and the window open and a chap with a knife in his hand, so i didn't stop tomake inquiries. i just let go at his jaw for all i wasworth. what on earth do you think you're doing?were you walking in your sleep?" "it was elizabeth," i said.

"why, you know all about it.she said she had told you." "you don't mean----""the picture. you refused to take it on, so she askedme." "reggie, old man," he said."i'll never believe what they say about repentance again. it's a fool's trick and upsets everything. if i hadn't repented, and thought it wasrather rough on elizabeth not to do a little thing like that for her, and comedown here to do it after all, you wouldn't have stopped that sleep-producer with yourchin.

i'm sorry.""me, too," i said, giving my head another shake to make certain it was still on. "are you feeling better now?""better than i was. but that's not saying much.""would you like some more soda-water? no? well, how about getting this job finishedand going to bed? and let's be quick about it too. you made a noise like a ton of bricks whenyou went down just now, and it's on the cards some of the servants may have heard.toss you who carves."

"heads." "tails it is," he said, uncovering thecoin. "up you get.i'll hold the light. don't spike yourself on that sword ofyours." it was as easy a job as elizabeth had said.just four quick cuts, and the thing came out of its frame like an oyster. i rolled it up.old bill had put the lantern on the floor and was at the sideboard, collectingwhisky, soda, and glasses. "we've got a long evening before us," hesaid.

"you can't burn a picture of that size inone chunk. you'd set the chimney on fire. let's do the thing comfortably.clarence can't grudge us the stuff. we've done him a bit of good this trip.to-morrow'll be the maddest, merriest day of clarence's glad new year. on we go." we went up to my room, and sat smoking andyarning away and sipping our drinks, and every now and then cutting a slice off thepicture and shoving it in the fire till it was all gone.

and what with the cosiness of it and thecheerful blaze, and the comfortable feeling of doing good by stealth, i don't know wheni've had a jollier time since the days when we used to brew in my study at school. we had just put the last slice on when billsat up suddenly, and gripped my arm. "i heard something," he said.i listened, and, by jove, i heard something, too. my room was just over the dining-room, andthe sound came up to us quite distinctly. stealthy footsteps, by george!and then a chair falling over. "there's somebody in the dining-room," iwhispered.

there's a certain type of chap who takes apleasure in positively chivvying trouble. old bill's like that. if i had been alone, it would have taken meabout three seconds to persuade myself that i hadn't really heard anything after all.i'm a peaceful sort of cove, and believe in living and letting live, and so forth. to old bill, however, a visit from burglarswas pure jam. he was out of his chair in one jump."come on," he said. "bring the poker." i brought the tongs as well.i felt like it.

old bill collared the knife.we crept downstairs. "we'll fling the door open and make arush," said bill. "supposing they shoot, old scout?""burglars never shoot," said bill. which was comforting provided the burglarsknew it. old bill took a grip of the handle, turnedit quickly, and in he went. and then we pulled up sharp, staring. the room was in darkness except for afeeble splash of light at the near end. standing on a chair in front of clarence's"jocund spring," holding a candle in one hand and reaching up with a knife in theother, was old mr. yeardsley, in bedroom

slippers and a grey dressing-gown. he had made a final cut just as we rushedin. turning at the sound, he stopped, and heand the chair and the candle and the picture came down in a heap together. the candle went out."what on earth?" said bill. i felt the same.i picked up the candle and lit it, and then a most fearful thing happened. the old man picked himself up, and suddenlycollapsed into a chair and began to cry like a child.

of course, i could see it was only theartistic temperament, but still, believe me, it was devilish unpleasant.i looked at old bill. old bill looked at me. we shut the door quick, and after that wedidn't know what to do. i saw bill look at the sideboard, and iknew what he was looking for. but we had taken the siphon upstairs, andhis ideas of first-aid stopped short at squirting soda-water. we just waited, and presently old yeardsleyswitched off, sat up, and began talking with a rush."clarence, my boy, i was tempted.

it was that burglary at dryden park. it tempted me.it made it all so simple. i knew you would put it down to the samegang, clarence, my boy. i----" it seemed to dawn upon him at this pointthat clarence was not among those present. "clarence?" he said hesitatingly."he's in bed," i said. "in bed! then he doesn't know?even now--young men, i throw myself on your mercy.don't be hard on me.

listen." he grabbed at bill, who sidestepped."i can explain everything--everything." he gave a gulp. "you are not artists, you two young men,but i will try to make you understand, make you realise what this picture means to me.i was two years painting it. it is my child. i watched it grow.i loved it. it was part of my life.nothing would have induced me to sell it. and then clarence married, and in a madmoment i gave my treasure to him.

you cannot understand, you two young men,what agonies i suffered. the thing was done. it was irrevocable.i saw how clarence valued the picture. i knew that i could never bring myself toask him for it back. and yet i was lost without it. what could i do?till this evening i could see no hope. then came this story of the theft of theromney from a house quite close to this, and i saw my way. clarence would never suspect.he would put the robbery down to the same

band of criminals who stole the romney.once the idea had come, i could not drive it out. i fought against it, but to no avail.at last i yielded, and crept down here to carry out my plan.you found me." he grabbed again, at me this time, and gotme by the arm. he had a grip like a lobster."young man," he said, "you would not betray me? you would not tell clarence?" i was feeling most frightfully sorry forthe poor old chap by this time, don't you

know, but i thought it would be kindest togive it him straight instead of breaking it by degrees. "i won't say a word to clarence, mr.yeardsley," i said. "i quite understand your feelings.the artistic temperament, and all that sort of thing. i mean--what?i know. but i'm afraid--well, look!" i went to the door and switched on theelectric light, and there, staring him in the face, were the two empty frames.he stood goggling at them in silence.

then he gave a sort of wheezy grunt. "the gang!the burglars! they have been here, and they have takenclarence's picture!" he paused. "it might have been mine!my venus!" he whispered it was getting most fearfully painful, you know, but he had toknow the truth. "i'm awfully sorry, you know," i said. "but it was."he started, poor old chap. "eh?what do you mean?"

"they did take your venus." "but i have it here."i shook my head. "that's clarence's 'jocund spring,'" isaid. he jumped at it and straightened it out. "what!what are you talking about? do you think i don't know my own picture--my child--my venus. see! my own signature in the corner.can you read, boy? look: 'matthew yeardsley.'this is my picture!"

and--well, by jove, it was, don't you know! well, we got him off to bed, him and hisinfernal venus, and we settled down to take a steady look at the position of affairs. bill said it was my fault for getting holdof the wrong picture, and i said it was bill's fault for fetching me such a crackon the jaw that i couldn't be expected to see what i was getting hold of, and then there was a pretty massive silence for abit. "reggie," said bill at last, "how exactlydo you feel about facing clarence and elizabeth at breakfast?"

"old scout," i said."i was thinking much the same myself." "reggie," said bill, "i happen to knowthere's a milk-train leaving midford at three-fifteen. it isn't what you'd call a flier.it gets to london at about half-past nine. well--er--in the circumstances, how aboutit?" chapter 8 the aunt and the sluggard now that it's all over, i may as well admitthat there was a time during the rather funny affair of rockmetteller todd when ithought that jeeves was going to let me down.

the man had the appearance of beingbaffled. jeeves is my man, you know. officially he pulls in his weekly wages forpressing my clothes and all that sort of thing; but actually he's more like what thepoet johnnie called some bird of his acquaintance who was apt to rally round him in times of need--a guide, don't you know;philosopher, if i remember rightly, and--i rather fancy--friend.i rely on him at every turn. so naturally, when rocky todd told me abouthis aunt, i didn't hesitate. jeeves was in on the thing from the start.the affair of rocky todd broke loose early

one morning of spring. i was in bed, restoring the good oldtissues with about nine hours of the dreamless, when the door flew open andsomebody prodded me in the lower ribs and began to shake the bedclothes. after blinking a bit and generally pullingmyself together, i located rocky, and my first impression was that it was somehorrid dream. rocky, you see, lived down on long islandsomewhere, miles away from new york; and not only that, but he had told me himselfmore than once that he never got up before twelve, and seldom earlier than one.

constitutionally the laziest young devil inamerica, he had hit on a walk in life which enabled him to go the limit in thatdirection. he was a poet. at least, he wrote poems when he didanything; but most of his time, as far as i could make out, he spent in a sort oftrance. he told me once that he could sit on afence, watching a worm and wondering what on earth it was up to, for hours at astretch. he had his scheme of life worked out to afine point. about once a month he would take three dayswriting a few poems; the other three

hundred and twenty-nine days of the year herested. i didn't know there was enough money inpoetry to support a chappie, even in the way in which rocky lived; but it seemsthat, if you stick to exhortations to young men to lead the strenuous life and don't shove in any rhymes, american editors fightfor the stuff. rocky showed me one of his things once.it began: be!be! the past is dead.to-morrow is not born. be to-day!

to-day!be with every nerve, with every muscle,with every drop of your red blood! be! it was printed opposite the frontispiece ofa magazine with a sort of scroll round it, and a picture in the middle of a fairly-nude chappie, with bulging muscles, giving the rising sun the glad eye. rocky said they gave him a hundred dollarsfor it, and he stayed in bed till four in the afternoon for over a month. as regarded the future he was pretty solid,owing to the fact that he had a moneyed

aunt tucked away somewhere in illinois;and, as he had been named rockmetteller after her, and was her only nephew, hisposition was pretty sound. he told me that when he did come into themoney he meant to do no work at all, except perhaps an occasional poem recommending theyoung man with life opening out before him, with all its splendid possibilities, to light a pipe and shove his feet upon themantelpiece. and this was the man who was prodding me inthe ribs in the grey dawn! "read this, bertie!" i could just see that he was waving aletter or something equally foul in my

face."wake up and read this!" i can't read before i've had my morning teaand a cigarette. i groped for the bell.jeeves came in looking as fresh as a dewy violet. it's a mystery to me how he does it."tea, jeeves." he flowed silently out of the room--healways gives you the impression of being some liquid substance when he moves; and ifound that rocky was surging round with his beastly letter again. "what is it?"i said.

"what on earth's the matter?""read it!" "i can't. i haven't had my tea.""well, listen then." "who's it from?""my aunt." at this point i fell asleep again. i woke to hear him saying:"so what on earth am i to do?" jeeves trickled in with the tray, like somesilent stream meandering over its mossy bed; and i saw daylight. "read it again, rocky, old top," i said."i want jeeves to hear it.

mr. todd's aunt has written him a ratherrummy letter, jeeves, and we want your advice." "very good, sir."he stood in the middle of the room, registering devotion to the cause, androcky started again: "my dear rockmetteller.--i have beenthinking things over for a long while, and i have come to the conclusion that i havebeen very thoughtless to wait so long before doing what i have made up my mind todo now." "what do you make of that, jeeves?" "it seems a little obscure at present, sir,but no doubt it becomes cleared at a later

point in the communication.""it becomes as clear as mud!" said rocky. "proceed, old scout," i said, champing mybread and butter. "you know how all my life i have longed tovisit new york and see for myself the wonderful gay life of which i have read somuch. i fear that now it will be impossible forme to fulfil my dream. i am old and worn out.i seem to have no strength left in me." "sad, jeeves, what?" "extremely, sir.""sad nothing!" said rocky. "it's sheer laziness.i went to see her last christmas and she

was bursting with health. her doctor told me himself that there wasnothing wrong with her whatever. but she will insist that she's a hopelessinvalid, so he has to agree with her. she's got a fixed idea that the trip to newyork would kill her; so, though it's been her ambition all her life to come here, shestays where she is." "rather like the chappie whose heart was'in the highlands a-chasing of the deer,' jeeves?""the cases are in some respects parallel, sir." "carry on, rocky, dear boy.""so i have decided that, if i cannot enjoy

all the marvels of the city myself, i canat least enjoy them through you. i suddenly thought of this yesterday afterreading a beautiful poem in the sunday paper about a young man who had longed allhis life for a certain thing and won it in the end only when he was too old to enjoyit. it was very sad, and it touched me." "a thing," interpolated rocky bitterly,"that i've not been able to do in ten years." "as you know, you will have my money when iam gone; but until now i have never been able to see my way to giving you anallowance.

i have now decided to do so--on onecondition. i have written to a firm of lawyers in newyork, giving them instructions to pay you quite a substantial sum each month. my one condition is that you live in newyork and enjoy yourself as i have always wished to do. i want you to be my representative, tospend this money for me as i should do myself.i want you to plunge into the gay, prismatic life of new york. i want you to be the life and soul ofbrilliant supper parties.

"above all, i want you--indeed, i insist onthis--to write me letters at least once a week giving me a full description of allyou are doing and all that is going on in the city, so that i may enjoy at second- hand what my wretched health prevents myenjoying for myself. remember that i shall expect full details,and that no detail is too trivial to interest.--your affectionate aunt, "isabel rockmetteller.""what about it?" said rocky. "what about it?"i said. what on earth am i going to do?"

it was only then that i really got on tothe extremely rummy attitude of the chappie, in view of the fact that a quiteunexpected mess of the right stuff had suddenly descended on him from a blue sky. to my mind it was an occasion for thebeaming smile and the joyous whoop; yet here the man was, looking and talking as iffate had swung on his solar plexus. it amazed me. "aren't you bucked?"i said. "bucked!""if i were in your place i should be frightfully braced.

i consider this pretty soft for you."he gave a kind of yelp, stared at me for a moment, and then began to talk of new yorkin a way that reminded me of jimmy mundy, the reformer chappie. jimmy had just come to new york on a hit-the-trail campaign, and i had popped in at the garden a couple of days before, forhalf an hour or so, to hear him. he had certainly told new york some prettystraight things about itself, having apparently taken a dislike to the place,but, by jove, you know, dear old rocky made him look like a publicity agent for the oldmetrop.! "pretty soft!" he cried."to have to come and live in new york!

to have to leave my little cottage and takea stuffy, smelly, over-heated hole of an apartment in this heaven-forsaken,festering gehenna. to have to mix night after night with a mobwho think that life is a sort of st. vitus's dance, and imagine that they'rehaving a good time because they're making enough noise for six and drinking too muchfor ten. i loathe new york, bertie.i wouldn't come near the place if i hadn't got to see editors occasionally. there's a blight on it.it's got moral delirium tremens. it's the limit.the very thought of staying more than a day

in it makes me sick. and you call this thing pretty soft forme!" i felt rather like lot's friends must havedone when they dropped in for a quiet chat and their genial host began to criticisethe cities of the plain. i had no idea old rocky could be soeloquent. "it would kill me to have to live in newyork," he went on. "to have to share the air with six millionpeople! to have to wear stiff collars and decentclothes all the time! to----" he started.

"good lord!i suppose i should have to dress for dinner in the evenings.what a ghastly notion!" i was shocked, absolutely shocked. "my dear chap!"i said reproachfully. "do you dress for dinner every night,bertie?" "jeeves," i said coldly. the man was still standing like a statue bythe door. "how many suits of evening clothes have i?""we have three suits full of evening dress, sir; two dinner jackets----"

"three.""for practical purposes two only, sir. if you remember we cannot wear the third.we have also seven white waistcoats." "and shirts?" "four dozen, sir.""and white ties?" "the first two shallow shelves in the chestof drawers are completely filled with our white ties, sir." i turned to rocky."you see?" the chappie writhed like an electric fan."i won't do it! i can't do it!

i'll be hanged if i'll do it!how on earth can i dress up like that? do you realize that most days i don't getout of my pyjamas till five in the afternoon, and then i just put on an oldsweater?" i saw jeeves wince, poor chap! this sort of revelation shocked his finestfeelings. "then, what are you going to do about it?"i said. "that's what i want to know." "you might write and explain to your aunt.""i might--if i wanted her to get round to her lawyer's in two rapid leaps and cut meout of her will."

i saw his point. "what do you suggest, jeeves?"i said. jeeves cleared his throat respectfully. "the crux of the matter would appear to be,sir, that mr. todd is obliged by the conditions under which the money isdelivered into his possession to write miss rockmetteller long and detailed letters relating to his movements, and the onlymethod by which this can be accomplished, if mr. todd adheres to his expressedintention of remaining in the country, is for mr. todd to induce some second party to

gather the actual experiences which missrockmetteller wishes reported to her, and to convey these to him in the shape of acareful report, on which it would be possible for him, with the aid of his imagination, to base the suggestedcorrespondence." having got which off the old diaphragm,jeeves was silent. rocky looked at me in a helpless sort ofway. he hasn't been brought up on jeeves as ihave, and he isn't on to his curves. "could he put it a little clearer, bertie?"he said. "i thought at the start it was going tomake sense, but it kind of flickered.

what's the idea?" "my dear old man, perfectly simple.i knew we could stand on jeeves. all you've got to do is to get somebody togo round the town for you and take a few notes, and then you work the notes up intoletters. that's it, isn't it, jeeves?" "precisely, sir."the light of hope gleamed in rocky's eyes. he looked at jeeves in a startled way,dazed by the man's vast intellect. "but who would do it?" he said. "it would have to be a pretty smart sort ofman, a man who would notice things."

"jeeves!"i said. "let jeeves do it." "but would he?""you would do it, wouldn't you, jeeves?" for the first time in our long connection iobserved jeeves almost smile. the corner of his mouth curved quite aquarter of an inch, and for a moment his eye ceased to look like a meditativefish's. "i should be delighted to oblige, sir. as a matter of fact, i have already visitedsome of new york's places of interest on my evening out, and it would be most enjoyableto make a practice of the pursuit."

"fine! i know exactly what your aunt wants to hearabout, rocky. she wants an earful of cabaret stuff.the place you ought to go to first, jeeves, is reigelheimer's. it's on forty-second street.anybody will show you the way." jeeves shook his head."pardon me, sir. people are no longer going toreigelheimer's. the place at the moment is frolics on theroof." "you see?"

i said to rocky."leave it to jeeves. he knows." it isn't often that you find an entiregroup of your fellow-humans happy in this world; but our little circle was certainlyan example of the fact that it can be done. we were all full of beans. everything went absolutely right from thestart. jeeves was happy, partly because he lovesto exercise his giant brain, and partly because he was having a corking time amongthe bright lights. i saw him one night at the midnight revels.

he was sitting at a table on the edge ofthe dancing floor, doing himself remarkably well with a fat cigar and a bottle of thebest. i'd never imagined he could look so nearlyhuman. his face wore an expression of austerebenevolence, and he was making notes in a small book. as for the rest of us, i was feeling prettygood, because i was fond of old rocky and glad to be able to do him a good turn. rocky was perfectly contented, because hewas still able to sit on fences in his pyjamas and watch worms.and, as for the aunt, she seemed tickled to

death. she was getting broadway at pretty longrange, but it seemed to be hitting her just right.i read one of her letters to rocky, and it was full of life. but then rocky's letters, based on jeeves'snotes, were enough to buck anybody up. it was rummy when you came to think of it. there was i, loving the life, while themere mention of it gave rocky a tired feeling; yet here is a letter i wrote to apal of mine in london: "dear freddie,--well, here i am in newyork.

it's not a bad place.i'm not having a bad time. everything's pretty all right. the cabarets aren't bad.don't know when i shall be back. how's everybody?cheer-o!--yours, "bertie. "ps.--seen old ted lately?"not that i cared about ted; but if i hadn't dragged him in i couldn't have got theconfounded thing on to the second page. now here's old rocky on exactly the samesubject: "dearest aunt isabel,--how can i ever thankyou enough for giving me the opportunity to

live in this astounding city! new york seems more wonderful every day."fifth avenue is at its best, of course, just now.the dresses are magnificent!" wads of stuff about the dresses. i didn't know jeeves was such an authority."i was out with some of the crowd at the midnight revels the other night. we took in a show first, after a littledinner at a new place on forty-third street.we were quite a gay party. georgie cohan looked in about midnight andgot off a good one about willie collier.

fred stone could only stay a minute, butdoug. fairbanks did all sorts of stunts and madeus roar. diamond jim brady was there, as usual, andlaurette taylor showed up with a party. the show at the revels is quite good. i am enclosing a programme."last night a few of us went round to frolics on the roof----"and so on and so forth, yards of it. i suppose it's the artistic temperament orsomething. what i mean is, it's easier for a chappiewho's used to writing poems and that sort of tosh to put a bit of a punch into aletter than it is for a chappie like me.

anyway, there's no doubt that rocky'scorrespondence was hot stuff. i called jeeves in and congratulated him."jeeves, you're a wonder!" "how you notice everything at these placesbeats me. i couldn't tell you a thing about them,except that i've had a good time." "it's just a knack, sir." "well, mr. todd's letters ought to bracemiss rockmetteller all right, what?" "undoubtedly, sir," agreed jeeves.and, by jove, they did! they certainly did, by george! what i mean to say is, i was sitting in theapartment one afternoon, about a month

after the thing had started, smoking acigarette and resting the old bean, when the door opened and the voice of jeevesburst the silence like a bomb. it wasn't that he spoke loud. he has one of those soft, soothing voicesthat slide through the atmosphere like the note of a far-off sheep.it was what he said made me leap like a young gazelle. "miss rockmetteller!"and in came a large, solid female. the situation floored me.i'm not denying it. hamlet must have felt much as i did whenhis father's ghost bobbed up in the

fairway. i'd come to look on rocky's aunt as such apermanency at her own home that it didn't seem possible that she could really be herein new york. i stared at her. then i looked at jeeves.he was standing there in an attitude of dignified detachment, the chump, when, ifever he should have been rallying round the young master, it was now. rocky's aunt looked less like an invalidthan any one i've ever seen, except my aunt agatha.she had a good deal of aunt agatha about

her, as a matter of fact. she looked as if she might be deucedlydangerous if put upon; and something seemed to tell me that she would certainly regardherself as put upon if she ever found out the game which poor old rocky had beenpulling on her. "good afternoon," i managed to say."how do you do?" she said. "mr. cohan?" "er--no.""mr. fred stone?" "not absolutely.as a matter of fact, my name's wooster-- bertie wooster."

she seemed disappointed.the fine old name of wooster appeared to mean nothing in her life."isn't rockmetteller home?" she said. "where is he?" she had me with the first shot.i couldn't think of anything to say. i couldn't tell her that rocky was down inthe country, watching worms. there was the faintest flutter of sound inthe background. it was the respectful cough with whichjeeves announces that he is about to speak without having been spoken to. "if you remember, sir, mr. todd went out inthe automobile with a party in the

afternoon.""so he did, jeeves; so he did," i said, looking at my watch. "did he say when he would be back?""he gave me to understand, sir, that he would be somewhat late in returning."he vanished; and the aunt took the chair which i'd forgotten to offer her. she looked at me in rather a rummy way.it was a nasty look. it made me feel as if i were something thedog had brought in and intended to bury later on, when he had time. my own aunt agatha, back in england, haslooked at me in exactly the same way many a

time, and it never fails to make my spinecurl. "you seem very much at home here, youngman. are you a great friend of rockmetteller's?""oh, yes, rather!" she frowned as if she had expected betterthings of old rocky. "well, you need to be," she said, "the wayyou treat his flat as your own!" i give you my word, this quite unforeseenslam simply robbed me of the power of speech. i'd been looking on myself in the light ofthe dashing host, and suddenly to be treated as an intruder jarred me.

it wasn't, mark you, as if she had spokenin a way to suggest that she considered my presence in the place as an ordinary socialcall. she obviously looked on me as a crossbetween a burglar and the plumber's man come to fix the leak in the bathroom.it hurt her--my being there. at this juncture, with the conversationshowing every sign of being about to die in awful agonies, an idea came to me.tea--the good old stand-by. "would you care for a cup of tea?" i said."tea?" she spoke as if she had never heard of thestuff.

"nothing like a cup after a journey," isaid. "bucks you up!puts a bit of zip into you. what i mean is, restores you, and so on,don't you know. i'll go and tell jeeves."i tottered down the passage to jeeves's lair. the man was reading the evening paper as ifhe hadn't a care in the world. "jeeves," i said, "we want some tea.""very good, sir." "i say, jeeves, this is a bit thick, what?" i wanted sympathy, don't you know--sympathyand kindness.

the old nerve centres had had the deuce ofa shock. "she's got the idea this place belongs tomr. todd. what on earth put that into her head?"jeeves filled the kettle with a restrained dignity. "no doubt because of mr. todd's letters,sir," he said. "it was my suggestion, sir, if youremember, that they should be addressed from this apartment in order that mr. toddshould appear to possess a good central residence in the city." i remembered.we had thought it a brainy scheme at the

time."well, it's bally awkward, you know, jeeves. she looks on me as an intruder.by jove! i suppose she thinks i'm someone who hangsabout here, touching mr. todd for free meals and borrowing his shirts." "yes, sir.""it's pretty rotten, you know." "most disturbing, sir.""and there's another thing: what are we to do about mr. todd? we've got to get him up here as soon asever we can.

when you have brought the tea you hadbetter go out and send him a telegram, telling him to come up by the next train." "i have already done so, sir.i took the liberty of writing the message and dispatching it by the lift attendant.""by jove, you think of everything, jeeves!" "thank you, sir. a little buttered toast with the tea?just so, sir. thank you."i went back to the sitting-room. she hadn't moved an inch. she was still bolt upright on the edge ofher chair, gripping her umbrella like a

hammer-thrower.she gave me another of those looks as i came in. there was no doubt about it; for somereason she had taken a dislike to me. i suppose because i wasn't george m. cohan.it was a bit hard on a chap. "this is a surprise, what?" i said, after about five minutes' restfulsilence, trying to crank the conversation up again."what is a surprise?" "your coming here, don't you know, and soon." she raised her eyebrows and drank me in abit more through her glasses.

"why is it surprising that i should visitmy only nephew?" she said. put like that, of course, it did seemreasonable. "oh, rather," i said. "of course!certainly. what i mean is----"jeeves projected himself into the room with the tea. i was jolly glad to see him.there's nothing like having a bit of business arranged for one when one isn'tcertain of one's lines. with the teapot to fool about with i felthappier.

"tea, tea, tea--what?what?" it wasn't what i had meant to say.my idea had been to be a good deal more formal, and so on.still, it covered the situation. i poured her out a cup. she sipped it and put the cup down with ashudder. "do you mean to say, young man," she saidfrostily, "that you expect me to drink this stuff?" "rather!bucks you up, you know." "what do you mean by the expression 'bucksyou up'?"

"well, makes you full of beans, you know. makes you fizz.""i don't understand a word you say. you're english, aren't you?"i admitted it. she didn't say a word. and somehow she did it in a way that madeit worse than if she had spoken for hours. somehow it was brought home to me that shedidn't like englishmen, and that if she had had to meet an englishman, i was the oneshe'd have chosen last. conversation languished again after that. then i tried again.i was becoming more convinced every moment

that you can't make a real lively salonwith a couple of people, especially if one of them lets it go a word at a time. "are you comfortable at your hotel?"i said. "at which hotel?""the hotel you're staying at." "i am not staying at an hotel." "stopping with friends--what?""i am naturally stopping with my nephew." i didn't get it for the moment; then it hitme. "what! here?"i gurgled.

"certainly!where else should i go?" the full horror of the situation rolledover me like a wave. i couldn't see what on earth i was to do. i couldn't explain that this wasn't rocky'sflat without giving the poor old chap away hopelessly, because she would then ask mewhere he did live, and then he would be right in the soup. i was trying to induce the old bean torecover from the shock and produce some results when she spoke again."will you kindly tell my nephew's man- servant to prepare my room?

i wish to lie down.""your nephew's man-servant?" "the man you call jeeves. if rockmetteller has gone for an automobileride, there is no need for you to wait for him.he will naturally wish to be alone with me when he returns." i found myself tottering out of the room.the thing was too much for me. i crept into jeeves's den."jeeves!" i whispered. "sir?""mix me a b.-and-s., jeeves.

i feel weak.""very good, sir." "this is getting thicker every minute,jeeves." "sir?""she thinks you're mr. todd's man. she thinks the whole place is his, andeverything in it. i don't see what you're to do, except stayon and keep it up. we can't say anything or she'll get on tothe whole thing, and i don't want to let mr. todd down.by the way, jeeves, she wants you to prepare her bed." he looked wounded."it is hardly my place, sir----"

"i know--i know.but do it as a personal favour to me. if you come to that, it's hardly my placeto be flung out of the flat like this and have to go to an hotel, what?""is it your intention to go to an hotel, sir? what will you do for clothes?""good lord! i hadn't thought of that. can you put a few things in a bag when sheisn't looking, and sneak them down to me at the st. aurea?""i will endeavour to do so, sir." "well, i don't think there's anything more,is there?

tell mr. todd where i am when he getshere." i looked round the place.the moment of parting had come. i felt sad. the whole thing reminded me of one of thosemelodramas where they drive chappies out of the old homestead into the snow."good-bye, jeeves," i said. "good-bye, sir." and i staggered out.you know, i rather think i agree with those poet-and-philosopher johnnies who insistthat a fellow ought to be devilish pleased if he has a bit of trouble.

all that stuff about being refined bysuffering, you know. suffering does give a chap a sort ofbroader and more sympathetic outlook. it helps you to understand other people'smisfortunes if you've been through the same thing yourself. as i stood in my lonely bedroom at thehotel, trying to tie my white tie myself, it struck me for the first time that theremust be whole squads of chappies in the world who had to get along without a man tolook after them. i'd always thought of jeeves as a kind ofnatural phenomenon; but, by jove! of course, when you come to think of it, theremust be quite a lot of fellows who have to

press their own clothes themselves and haven't got anybody to bring them tea inthe morning, and so on. it was rather a solemn thought, don't youknow. i mean to say, ever since then i've beenable to appreciate the frightful privations the poor have to stick.i got dressed somehow. jeeves hadn't forgotten a thing in hispacking. everything was there, down to the finalstud. i'm not sure this didn't make me feelworse. it kind of deepened the pathos.it was like what somebody or other wrote

about the touch of a vanished hand. i had a bit of dinner somewhere and went toa show of some kind; but nothing seemed to make any difference.i simply hadn't the heart to go on to supper anywhere. i just sucked down a whisky-and-soda in thehotel smoking-room and went straight up to bed.i don't know when i've felt so rotten. somehow i found myself moving about theroom softly, as if there had been a death in the family. if i had anybody to talk to i should havetalked in a whisper; in fact, when the

telephone-bell rang i answered in such asad, hushed voice that the fellow at the other end of the wire said "halloa!" fivetimes, thinking he hadn't got me. it was rocky.the poor old scout was deeply agitated. "bertie! is that you, bertie!oh, gosh? i'm having a time!""where are you speaking from?" "the midnight revels. we've been here an hour, and i think we'rea fixture for the night. i've told aunt isabel i've gone out to callup a friend to join us.

she's glued to a chair, with this-is-the-life written all over her, taking it in through the pores.she loves it, and i'm nearly crazy." "tell me all, old top," i said. "a little more of this," he said, "and ishall sneak quietly off to the river and end it all.do you mean to say you go through this sort of thing every night, bertie, and enjoy it? it's simply infernal!i was just snatching a wink of sleep behind the bill of fare just now when about amillion yelling girls swooped down, with toy balloons.

there are two orchestras here, each tryingto see if it can't play louder than the other.i'm a mental and physical wreck. when your telegram arrived i was just lyingdown for a quiet pipe, with a sense of absolute peace stealing over me.i had to get dressed and sprint two miles to catch the train. it nearly gave me heart-failure; and on topof that i almost got brain fever inventing lies to tell aunt isabel.and then i had to cram myself into these confounded evening clothes of yours." i gave a sharp wail of agony.it hadn't struck me till then that rocky

was depending on my wardrobe to see himthrough. "you'll ruin them!" "i hope so," said rocky, in the mostunpleasant way. his troubles seemed to have had the worsteffect on his character. "i should like to get back at them somehow;they've given me a bad enough time. they're about three sizes too small, andsomething's apt to give at any moment. i wish to goodness it would, and give me achance to breathe. i haven't breathed since half-past seven. thank heaven, jeeves managed to get out andbuy me a collar that fitted, or i should be

a strangled corpse by now!it was touch and go till the stud broke. bertie, this is pure hades! aunt isabel keeps on urging me to dance.how on earth can i dance when i don't know a soul to dance with?and how the deuce could i, even if i knew every girl in the place? it's taking big chances even to move inthese trousers. i had to tell her i've hurt my ankle. she keeps asking me when cohan and stoneare going to turn up; and it's simply a question of time before she discovers thatstone is sitting two tables away.

something's got to be done, bertie! you've got to think up some way of gettingme out of this mess. it was you who got me into it.""me! what do you mean?" "well, jeeves, then.it's all the same. it was you who suggested leaving it tojeeves. it was those letters i wrote from his notesthat did the mischief. i made them too good!my aunt's just been telling me about it. she says she had resigned herself to endingher life where she was, and then my letters

began to arrive, describing the joys of newyork; and they stimulated her to such an extent that she pulled herself together andmade the trip. she seems to think she's had somemiraculous kind of faith cure. i tell you i can't stand it, bertie! it's got to end!""can't jeeves think of anything?" "no.he just hangs round saying: 'most disturbing, sir!' a fat lot of help that is!""well, old lad," i said, "after all, it's far worse for me than it is for you.you've got a comfortable home and jeeves.

and you're saving a lot of money." "saving money?what do you mean--saving money?" "why, the allowance your aunt was givingyou. i suppose she's paying all the expensesnow, isn't she?" "certainly she is; but she's stopped theallowance. she wrote the lawyers to-night. she says that, now she's in new york, thereis no necessity for it to go on, as we shall always be together, and it's simplerfor her to look after that end of it. i tell you, bertie, i've examined thedarned cloud with a microscope, and if it's

got a silver lining it's some littledissembler!" "but, rocky, old top, it's too bally awful! you've no notion of what i'm going throughin this beastly hotel, without jeeves. i must get back to the flat.""don't come near the flat." "but it's my own flat." "i can't help that.aunt isabel doesn't like you. she asked me what you did for a living. and when i told her you didn't do anythingshe said she thought as much, and that you were a typical specimen of a useless anddecaying aristocracy.

so if you think you have made a hit, forgetit. now i must be going back, or she'll becoming out here after me. good-bye." next morning jeeves came round.it was all so home-like when he floated noiselessly into the room that i nearlybroke down. "good morning, sir," he said. "i have brought a few more of your personalbelongings." he began to unstrap the suit-case he wascarrying. "did you have any trouble sneaking themaway?"

"it was not easy, sir.i had to watch my chance. miss rockmetteller is a remarkably alertlady." "you know, jeeves, say what you like--thisis a bit thick, isn't it?" "the situation is certainly one that hasnever before come under my notice, sir. i have brought the heather-mixture suit, asthe climatic conditions are congenial. to-morrow, if not prevented, i willendeavour to add the brown lounge with the faint green twill.""it can't go on--this sort of thing-- jeeves." "we must hope for the best, sir.""can't you think of anything to do?"

"i have been giving the matter considerablethought, sir, but so far without success. i am placing three silk shirts--the dove-coloured, the light blue, and the mauve--in the first long drawer, sir.""you don't mean to say you can't think of anything, jeeves?" "for the moment, sir, no.you will find a dozen handkerchiefs and the tan socks in the upper drawer on the left."he strapped the suit-case and put it on a chair. "a curious lady, miss rockmetteller, sir.""you understate it, jeeves." he gazed meditatively out of the window.

"in many ways, sir, miss rockmettellerreminds me of an aunt of mine who resides in the south-east portion of london.their temperaments are much alike. my aunt has the same taste for thepleasures of the great city. it is a passion with her to ride in hansomcabs, sir. whenever the family take their eyes off hershe escapes from the house and spends the day riding about in cabs. on several occasions she has broken intothe children's savings bank to secure the means to enable her to gratify thisdesire." "i love to have these little chats with youabout your female relatives, jeeves," i

said coldly, for i felt that the man hadlet me down, and i was fed up with him. "but i don't see what all this has got todo with my trouble." "i beg your pardon, sir. i am leaving a small assortment of necktieson the mantelpiece, sir, for you to select according to your preference.i should recommend the blue with the red domino pattern, sir." then he streamed imperceptibly toward thedoor and flowed silently out. i've often heard that chappies, after somegreat shock or loss, have a habit, after they've been on the floor for a whilewondering what hit them, of picking

themselves up and piecing themselves together, and sort of taking a whirl atbeginning a new life. time, the great healer, and nature,adjusting itself, and so on and so forth. there's a lot in it. i know, because in my own case, after a dayor two of what you might call prostration, i began to recover. the frightful loss of jeeves made anythought of pleasure more or less a mockery, but at least i found that i was able tohave a dash at enjoying life again. what i mean is, i braced up to the extentof going round the cabarets once more, so

as to try to forget, if only for themoment. new york's a small place when it comes tothe part of it that wakes up just as the rest is going to bed, and it wasn't longbefore my tracks began to cross old rocky's. i saw him once at peale's, and again atfrolics on the roof. there wasn't anybody with him either timeexcept the aunt, and, though he was trying to look as if he had struck the ideal life,it wasn't difficult for me, knowing the circumstances, to see that beneath the maskthe poor chap was suffering. my heart bled for the fellow.at least, what there was of it that wasn't

bleeding for myself bled for him. he had the air of one who was about tocrack under the strain. it seemed to me that the aunt was lookingslightly upset also. i took it that she was beginning to wonderwhen the celebrities were going to surge round, and what had suddenly become of allthose wild, careless spirits rocky used to mix with in his letters. i didn't blame her. i had only read a couple of his letters,but they certainly gave the impression that poor old rocky was by way of being the hubof new york night life, and that, if by any

chance he failed to show up at a cabaret, the management said: "what's the use?" andput up the shutters. the next two nights i didn't come acrossthem, but the night after that i was sitting by myself at the maison pierre whensomebody tapped me on the shoulder-blade, and i found rocky standing beside me, with a sort of mixed expression of wistfulnessand apoplexy on his face. how the chappie had contrived to wear myevening clothes so many times without disaster was a mystery to me. he confided later that early in theproceedings he had slit the waistcoat up

the back and that that had helped a bit. for a moment i had the idea that he hadmanaged to get away from his aunt for the evening; but, looking past him, i saw thatshe was in again. she was at a table over by the wall,looking at me as if i were something the management ought to be complained to about. "bertie, old scout," said rocky, in aquiet, sort of crushed voice, "we've always been pals, haven't we?i mean, you know i'd do you a good turn if you asked me?" "my dear old lad," i said.the man had moved me.

"then, for heaven's sake, come over and sitat our table for the rest of the evening." well, you know, there are limits to thesacred claims of friendship. "my dear chap," i said, "you know i'd doanything in reason; but----" "you must come, bertie. you've got to.something's got to be done to divert her mind.she's brooding about something. she's been like that for the last two days. i think she's beginning to suspect.she can't understand why we never seem to meet anyone i know at these joints.a few nights ago i happened to run into two

newspaper men i used to know fairly well. that kept me going for a while.i introduced them to aunt isabel as david belasco and jim corbett, and it went well.but the effect has worn off now, and she's beginning to wonder again. something's got to be done, or she willfind out everything, and if she does i'd take a nickel for my chance of getting acent from her later on. so, for the love of mike, come across toour table and help things along." i went along.one has to rally round a pal in distress. aunt isabel was sitting bolt upright, asusual.

it certainly did seem as if she had lost abit of the zest with which she had started out to explore broadway. she looked as if she had been thinking agood deal about rather unpleasant things. "you've met bertie wooster, aunt isabel?"said rocky. "i have." there was something in her eye that seemedto say: "out of a city of six million people, whydid you pick on me?" "take a seat, bertie. what'll you have?" said rocky.and so the merry party began.

it was one of those jolly, happy, bread-crumbling parties where you cough twice before you speak, and then decide not tosay it after all. after we had had an hour of this wilddissipation, aunt isabel said she wanted to go home.in the light of what rocky had been telling me, this struck me as sinister. i had gathered that at the beginning of hervisit she had had to be dragged home with ropes.it must have hit rocky the same way, for he gave me a pleading look. "you'll come along, won't you, bertie, andhave a drink at the flat?"

i had a feeling that this wasn't in thecontract, but there wasn't anything to be done. it seemed brutal to leave the poor chapalone with the woman, so i went along. right from the start, from the moment westepped into the taxi, the feeling began to grow that something was about to breakloose. a massive silence prevailed in the cornerwhere the aunt sat, and, though rocky, balancing himself on the little seat infront, did his best to supply dialogue, we weren't a chatty party. i had a glimpse of jeeves as we went intothe flat, sitting in his lair, and i wished

i could have called to him to rally round.something told me that i was about to need the stuff was on the table in the sitting-room. rocky took up the decanter."say when, bertie." "stop!" barked the aunt, and he dropped it. i caught rocky's eye as he stooped to pickup the ruins. it was the eye of one who sees it coming."leave it there, rockmetteller!" said aunt isabel; and rocky left it there. "the time has come to speak," she said."i cannot stand idly by and see a young man going to perdition!"

poor old rocky gave a sort of gurgle, akind of sound rather like the whisky had made running out of the decanter on to mycarpet. "eh?" he said, blinking. the aunt proceeded."the fault," she said, "was mine. i had not then seen the light.but now my eyes are open. i see the hideous mistake i have made. i shudder at the thought of the wrong i didyou, rockmetteller, by urging you into contact with this wicked city."i saw rocky grope feebly for the table. his fingers touched it, and a look ofrelief came into the poor chappie's face.

i understood his feelings. "but when i wrote you that letter,rockmetteller, instructing you to go to the city and live its life, i had not had theprivilege of hearing mr. mundy speak on the subject of new york." "jimmy mundy!"i cried. you know how it is sometimes wheneverything seems all mixed up and you suddenly get a clue. when she mentioned jimmy mundy i began tounderstand more or less what had happened. i'd seen it happen before.

i remember, back in england, the man i hadbefore jeeves sneaked off to a meeting on his evening out and came back and denouncedme in front of a crowd of chappies i was giving a bit of supper to as a moral leper. the aunt gave me a withering up and down."yes; jimmy mundy!" she said. "i am surprised at a man of your stamphaving heard of him. there is no music, there are no drunken,dancing men, no shameless, flaunting women at his meetings; so for you they would haveno attraction. but for others, less dead in sin, he hashis message. he has come to save new york from itself;to force it--in his picturesque phrase--to

hit the trail. it was three days ago, rockmetteller, thati first heard him. it was an accident that took me to hismeeting. how often in this life a mere accident mayshape our whole future! "you had been called away by that telephonemessage from mr. belasco; so you could not take me to the hippodrome, as we hadarranged. i asked your manservant, jeeves, to take methere. the man has very little intelligence.he seems to have misunderstood me. i am thankful that he did.

he took me to what i subsequently learnedwas madison square garden, where mr. mundy is holding his meetings.he escorted me to a seat and then left me. and it was not till the meeting had begunthat i discovered the mistake which had been made.my seat was in the middle of a row. i could not leave without inconveniencing agreat many people, so i remained." she gulped."rockmetteller, i have never been so thankful for anything else. mr. mundy was wonderful!he was like some prophet of old, scourging the sins of the people.

he leaped about in a frenzy of inspirationtill i feared he would do himself an injury. sometimes he expressed himself in asomewhat odd manner, but every word carried conviction.he showed me new york in its true colours. he showed me the vanity and wickedness ofsitting in gilded haunts of vice, eating lobster when decent people should be inbed. "he said that the tango and the fox-trotwere devices of the devil to drag people down into the bottomless pit. he said that there was more sin in tenminutes with a negro banjo orchestra than

in all the ancient revels of nineveh andbabylon. and when he stood on one leg and pointedright at where i was sitting and shouted, 'this means you!'i could have sunk through the floor. i came away a changed woman. surely you must have noticed the change inme, rockmetteller? you must have seen that i was no longer thecareless, thoughtless person who had urged you to dance in those places ofwickedness?" rocky was holding on to the table as if itwas his only friend. "y-yes," he stammered; "i--i thoughtsomething was wrong."

"wrong? something was right!everything was right! rockmetteller, it is not too late for youto be saved. you have only sipped of the evil cup. you have not drained it.it will be hard at first, but you will find that you can do it if you fight with astout heart against the glamour and fascination of this dreadful city. won't you, for my sake, try, rockmetteller?won't you go back to the country to-morrow and begin the struggle?little by little, if you use your will----"

i can't help thinking it must have beenthat word "will" that roused dear old rocky like a trumpet call. it must have brought home to him therealisation that a miracle had come off and saved him from being cut out of auntisabel's. at any rate, as she said it he perked up,let go of the table, and faced her with gleaming eyes."do you want me to go back to the country, aunt isabel?" "yes.""not to live in the country?" "yes, rockmetteller.""stay in the country all the time, do you

mean? never come to new york?""yes, rockmetteller; i mean just that. it is the only way.only there can you be safe from temptation. will you do it, rockmetteller? will you--for my sake?"rocky grabbed the table again. he seemed to draw a lot of encouragementfrom that table. "i will!" he said. "jeeves," i said.it was next day, and i was back in the old flat, lying in the old arm-chair, with myfeet upon the good old table.

i had just come from seeing dear old rockyoff to his country cottage, and an hour before he had seen his aunt off to whateverhamlet it was that she was the curse of; so we were alone at last. "jeeves, there's no place like home--what?""very true, sir." "the jolly old roof-tree, and all that sortof thing--what?" "precisely, sir." i lit another cigarette."jeeves." "sir?""do you know, at one point in the business i really thought you were baffled."

"indeed, sir?""when did you get the idea of taking miss rockmetteller to the meeting?it was pure genius!" it came to me a little suddenly, onemorning when i was thinking of my aunt, sir.""your aunt? the hansom cab one?" "yes, sir.i recollected that, whenever we observed one of her attacks coming on, we used tosend for the clergyman of the parish. we always found that if he talked to her awhile of higher things it diverted her mind from hansom cabs.

it occurred to me that the same treatmentmight prove efficacious in the case of miss rockmetteller."i was stunned by the man's resource. "it's brain," i said; "pure brain! what do you do to get like that, jeeves?i believe you must eat a lot of fish, or something.do you eat a lot of fish, jeeves?" "no, sir." "oh, well, then, it's just a gift, i takeit; and if you aren't born that way there's no use worrying.""precisely, sir," said jeeves. "if i might make the suggestion, sir, ishould not continue to wear your present

tie.the green shade gives you a slightly bilious air. i should strongly advocate the blue withthe red domino pattern instead, sir." "all right, jeeves."i said humbly. "you know!" the end

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