Pelham Wodehouse - Spring Fever

This encouraged him. He would have been the last person to dispute that the situation still presented certain embarrassing features, but the thought came to him, remembering that all men have their price, that it might be possible by exploring every avenue to find some formula that would be acceptable to both parties. There were, in short, in the Blue Room at that moment two minds with but a single thought.

He proceeded to try to pave the way to an understanding.

"Your name is Spink, I believe?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then sit down at this table, Spink. It is, you will notice, a round table, always essential on these occasions. Now, first and foremost, Spink, we must keep quite cool."

"Yes, sir."

"We must not lose our heads. We must get together over the round table and thresh this thing out quietly and calmly in a spirit of mutual co-operation."

"Yes, sir."

"I will begin by conceding a point. I am not Stanwood Cobbold."

"No, sir."

"Very good. We make progress. The question now arises, Who am I? Any suggestions?"

"I am not aware of your surname, sir, but I would hazard the conjecture that your first name is Michael."

"This is uncanny."

"I would also hazard the conjecture that you are a friend of Mr. Stanwood, and that you obtained his permission to impersonate him here because you desired to be in the society of Lady Teresa."

"How do you do it? With mirrors?"

Mervyn Spink smiled gently.

"A letter recently arrived for Lady Teresa, couched in impassioned terms and signed 'Mike.'"

"Good God! She didn't show it around?"

"No, sir. A member of the domestic staff came upon it while accidentally glancing through the contents of her ladyship's dressing table and, having perused it, reported its substance to the Servants Hall."

A pretty blush suffused Mike's cheeks. He ground his teeth a little.

"He did, did he?"

"She, sir. It was one of the maids. I rebuked her."

"You didn't wring her neck?"

"That did not occur to me, sir."

"You missed a bet. Did she enjoy it?"

"No, sir. I chided her severely."

"I mean the letter. It entertained her?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fine. One likes to feel that one's letters have given pleasure. Augustus Robb thought it good, too. He looked it over before it left."

"Sir?"

"A London critic. You haven't met him. If you ever do, introduce him to the maid. They will want to swap views on my literary style. Well, seeing that you are so well informed, I will admit that I did come here for the reason you suggest. So where do we go from here? My name, by the way, is Cardinal."

"I have often heard Mr. Stanwood speak of you, sir."

"Very likely. We're old friends. And you're right in supposing that I have his full sympathy and approval in the venture which I have undertaken. He was all for it."

"It is the attitude which one would have expected in Mr. Stanwood. He has a big heart and would, of course, do all that lay in his power to further a friend's romance. But you were saying, sir—"

"Yes, let's get back to it. Where do we go from here?"

"Sir?"

"Come, come, Spink, use the bean. The first essential, as you must see for yourself, is the ensuring of your silence. One word from you to the lady up top, and I am undone."

"Yes, sir."

"How is this silence to be contrived?"

"Well, sir, if I might make the suggestion—"

"You have the floor."

"—I would propose that we came to some amicable arrangement."

"Of a financial nature?"

"Precisely, sir."

Mike drew a breath of relief. It was as he had hoped. They had explored every avenue, and here came the formula, hot from the griddle. He beamed upon Mervyn Spink, as the inhabitants of Ghent no doubt beamed upon the men who brought the good news to that city from Aix.

"Now you're tooting. Now the fog of misunderstanding is dissipated and we can talk turkey. How do you react to the idea of a tenner?"

"Unenthusiastically, sir."

"Ten pounds is nice sugar, Spink."

"Inferior to two hundred, sir."

There was a pause. Mike laughed.

"Funny how one's ears play one tricks. It sounded to me for a moment as though you had said two hundred. Something to do with the acoustics, no doubt."

"That was the sum I mentioned, sir."

Mike clicked his tongue.

"Now listen, Spink. Your comedy is good, and we all enjoy a little wholesome fun, but we mustn't waste time. Twenty was what you meant, wasn't it?"

"No, sir. Two hundred. Mr. Stanwood has frequently spoken of the large income which you make in the exercise of your profession in Hollywood, and I am sure you will feel that two hundred pounds is a small price to pay for the privilege of making an extended stay at the castle. Judging by the tone of your letter."

"I wouldn't harp too much on that letter. I might plug you in the eye."

"Very good, sir."

"Already I feel a strong urge in that direction."

"I am sorry to hear that, sir."

"Two hundred pounds!"

"I require the sum for a particular purpose, sir."

"I know."

"His lordship has confided in you, sir?"

"From soup to nuts. And that's another thing that gives me pause. Apart from the disagreeableness of having to cough up two hundred pounds, there is the Lord Shortlands angle. This is going to be tough on him. It will dish his hopes and dreams."

"Into each life some rain must fall."

"Eh?"

"I was merey wishing to indicate, sir, that you cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs."

"Is this time to talk of omelettes, Spink? You realize, of course, that you are a lop-eared blackmailer?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you don't shudder?"

"No, sir."

"Then there is no more to be said."

"You will find pen and ink on the writing table, sir."

Mike made his way slowly to the writing table, and took pen in hand.

"Well, it's a comfort to think that this sort of thing is bound to grow on you and that eventually you will get it in the neck," he said. "I can read your future like a book. Before long another opportunity of stinging some member of the general public will present itself, and you will be unable to resist it. And after that you will go on and on, sinking deeper and deeper into the mire of crime. The appetite grows by what it feeds on, Spink."

"Yes, sir."

"You don't feel like pulling up while there is yet time?"

"No, sir."

"Just as you say. Let us hurry on, then, to the melancholy end. You will, as I say, go on and on, blackmailing the populace like nobody's business, until one day you make that false step which they all make and—bingo!—into the dock for yours, with the judge saying 'Well, prisoner at the bar, it's been nice knowing you—' And then off to the cooler for an exemplary sentence. I shall come on visiting days and make faces at you through the bars."

"I shall be delighted to receive you, sir."

"You won't be when you see the faces. What's the date?"

"The twelfth of May, sir."

"And your first name?"

"Mervyn, sir."

"A sweet name."

"So my mother felt, sir."

"Can you think of your mother at a moment when you are gouging a stranger, scarcely an acquaintance, for two hundred of the best and brightest?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ponder well, Spink. She is looking down on you from heaven—"

"She lives in East Dulwich, sir."

"Well, from East Dulwich, then. It makes no difference to my argument. She is looking down on you from East Dulwich—"

"If you would kindly make the check open—"

"All right. Here you are."

"Thank you, sir."

"Yes, she is —"

Mike paused. Somebody had knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Lady Adela entered.

"I thought I would come and see if you were all right, Mr. Cobbold," said Lady Adela brightly. "Are you quite comfortable?"