Pelham Wodehouse - The Return of Jeeves

But now that the women had left and two strong men —or three, if you counted Rory—stood face to face, who could say how long this happy state of things would last? Bill could but trust that Rory would not bring the conversation round to the dangerous subject by asking the Captain if he went in for racing at all.

"Do you go in for racing at all, Captain?" said Rory as the door closed.

A sound rather like the last gasp of a dying zebra shot from Captain Biggar's lips. Bill, who had risen some six inches into the air, diagnosed it correctly as a hollow, mirthless laugh.

He had had some idea of uttering something along those lines himself.

"Racing?" Captain Biggar choked. "Do I go in for racing at all? Well, mince me up and smother me in onions!"

Bill would gladly have done so. Such a culinary feat would, it seemed to him, have solved all his perplexities. He regretted that the idea had not occurred to one of the cannibal chiefs of whom his guest had been speaking.

"It's the Derby Dinner tonight," said Rory.

"I'll be popping along shortly to watch it on the television set in the library. All the top owners are coming on the screen to say what they think of their chances tomorrow. Not that the blighters know a damn thing about it, of course. were you at the Oaks this afternoon by any chance?"

Captain Biggar expanded like one of those peculiar fish in Florida which swell when you tickle them.

"Was I at the Oaks? Chang suark!

Yes, sir, I was. And if ever a man—"

"Rather pretty, this Southmoltonshire country, don't you think, Captain?" said Bill.

"Picturesque, as it is sometimes called. The next village to us—Lower Snodsbury—you may have noticed it as you came through—has a—"

"If ever a man got the ruddy sleeve across the bally wind-pipe," proceeded the Captain, who had now become so bright red that it was fortunate that by a lucky chance there were no bulls present in the dining-room, "it was me at Epsom this afternoon. I passed through the furnace like Shadrach, Meshach and Nebuchadnezzar or whoever it was. I had my soul tied up in knots and put through the wringer."

Rory tut-tutted sympathetically.

"Had a bad day, did you?"

"Let me tell you what happened."

"—ationorman church," continued Bill, faint but persevering, "which I believe is greatly—"

"I must begin by saying that since I came back to the old country, I have got in with a pretty shrewd lot of chaps, fellows who know one end of a horse from the other, as the expression is, and they've been putting me on to some good things. And today—"

"—admired by blokes who are fond of Norman churches," said Bill. "I don't know much about them myself, but according to the nibs there's a nave or something on that order—"

Captain Biggar exploded again.

"Don't talk to me about knaves! Yogi tulsiram jaginath! I met the king of them this afternoon, blister his insides. Well, as I was saying, these chaps of mine put me on to good things from time to time, and today they advised a double. Lucy Glitters in the two-thirty and Whistler's Mother for the Oaks."

"Extraordinary, Whistler's Mother winning like that," said Rory. "The consensus of opinion at Harrige's was that she hadn't a hope."

"And what happened? Lucy Glitters rolled in at a hundred to six, and Whistler's Mother, as you may have heard, at thirty-three to one."

Rory was stunned. "You mean your double came off?"

"Yes, sir."

"At those odds?"

"At those odds."

"How much did you have on?"

"Five pounds on Lucy Glitters and all to come on Whistler's Mother's nose."

Rory's eyes bulged.

"Good God! Are you listening to this, Bill? You must have won a fortune."

"Three thousand pounds."

"Well, I'll be ... Did you hear that, Jeeves?"

Jeeves had entered, bearing coffee. His deportment was, as ever, serene. Like Bill, he found Captain Biggar's presence in the home disturbing, but where Bill quaked and quivered, he continued to resemble a well-bred statue.

"Sir?"

"Captain Biggar won three thousand quid on the Oaks."

"Indeed, sir? A consummation devoutly to be wished."

"Yes," said the Captain sombrely.

"Three thousand pounds I won, and the bookie did a bolt."

Rory stared. "No!"

"I assure you."

"Skipped by the light of the moon?"

"Exactly."

Rory was overcome.

"I never heard anything so monstrous. Did you ever hear anything so monstrous, Jeeves?

Wasn't that the frozen limit, Bill?"

Bill seemed to come out of a trance.

"Sorry, Rory, I'm afraid I was thinking of something else. What were you saying?"

"Poor old Biggar brought off a double at Epsom this afternoon, and the swine of a bookie legged it, owing him three thousand pounds."

Bill was naturally aghast. Any good-hearted young man would have been, hearing such a story.

"Good heavens, Captain," he cried, "what a terrible thing to have happened. Legged it, did he, this bookie?"

"Popped off like a jack rabbit, with me after him."

"I don't wonder you're upset.

Scoundrels like that ought not to be at large. It makes one's blood boil to think of this ... this ... what would Shakespeare have called him, Jeeves?"

"This arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy knave, m'lord."

"Ah, yes. Shakespeare put these things well."

"A whoreson, beetle-headed, flap-eared knave, a knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a beggarly, filthy, worsted-stocking—"

"Yes, yes, Jeeves, quite so. One gets the idea." Bill's manner was a little agitated.

"Don't run away, Jeeves. Just give the fire a good stir."

"It is June, m'lord."

"So it is, so it is. I'm all of a doodah, hearing this appalling story. Won't you sit down, Captain? Oh, you are sitting down.

The cigars, Jeeves. A cigar for Captain Biggar."

The Captain held up a hand.

"Thank you, no. I never smoke when I'm after big game."

"Big game? Oh, I see what you mean.

This bookie fellow. You're a White Hunter, and now you're hunting white bookies," said Bill with a difficult laugh. "Rather good, that, Rory?"

"Dashed good, old boy. I'm convulsed. And now may I get down? I want to go and watch the Derby Dinner."

"An excellent idea," said Bill heartily. "Let's all go and watch the Derby Dinner. Come along, Captain."

Captain Biggar made no move to follow Rory from the room. He remained in his seat, looking redder than ever.

"Later, perhaps," he said curtly. "At the moment, I would like to have a word with you, Lord Rowcester."

"Certainly, certainly, certainly, certainly, certainly," said Bill, though not blithely. "Stick around, Jeeves. Lots of work to do in here. Polish an ashtray or something.

Give Captain Biggar a cigar."

"The gentleman has already declined your lordship's offer of a cigar."

"So he has, so he has. Well, well!" said Bill. "Well, well, well, well, well!" He lit one himself with a hand that trembled like a tuning-fork. "Tell us more about this bookie of yours, Captain."

Captain Biggar brooded darkly for a moment.

He came out of the silence to express a wistful hope that some day it might be granted to him to see the colour of the fellow's insides.

"I only wish," he said, "that I could meet the rat in Kuala Lumpur."

"Kuala Lumpur?"

Jeeves was his customary helpful self.

"A locality in the Straits Settlements, m'lord, a British Crown Colony in the East Indies including Malacca, Penang and the province of Wellesley, first made a separate dependency of the British Crown in 1853 and placed under the Governor-General of India. In 1887 the Cocos or Keeling Islands were attached to the colony, and in 1889 Christmas Island. Mr. Somerset Maugham has written searchingly of life in those parts."

"Of course, yes. It all comes back to me.