Pelham Wodehouse - The Return of Jeeves

"Who was he?"

"You may well ask. Didn't know him from Adam, and I could see Tubby Frobisher didn't know him from Adam. Nor did the Subahdar. But he came sidling up to us and the first thing he said, addressing me, was "Hullo, Bimbo, old boy", and I stared and said "Who on earth are you, old boy?"' because I hadn't been called Bimbo since I left school.

Everybody called me that there, God knows why, but out East it's been "Bwana" for as long as I can remember. And he said "Don't you know me, old boy? I'm Sycamore, old boy". And I stared again, and I said "What's that, old boy? Sycamore? Sycamore? Not Beau Sycamore that was in the Army Class at Uppingham with me, old boy?"' and he said "That's right, old boy. Only it's Hobo Sycamore now"."

The memory of that distressing encounter unmanned Captain Biggar for a moment. He was obliged to refill his glass with Bill's whisky before he could proceed.

"You could have knocked me down with a feather," he said, resuming. "This chap Sycamore had been the smartest, most dapper chap that ever adorned an Army Class, even at Uppingham."

Bill was following the narrative closely now.

"They're dapper in the Army Class at Uppingham, are they?"

"Very dapper, and this chap Sycamore, as I say, the most dapper of the lot. His dapperness was a byword. And here he was in a tattered shirt and dungarees, not even wearing a school tie."

Captain Biggar sighed. "I saw at once what must have happened. It was the old, old story.

Morale can crumble very easily out East.

Drink, women and unpd gambling debts ..."

"Yes, yes," said Bill. "He'd gone under, had he?"

"Right under. It was pitiful. The chap was nothing but a bally beachcomber."

"I remember a story of Maugham's about a fellow like that."

"I'll bet your friend Maugham, whoever he may be, never met such a derelict as Sycamore. He had touched bottom, and the problem was what was to be done about it. Tubby Frobisher and the Subahdar, of course, not having been introduced, were looking the other way and taking no part in the conversation, so it was up to me. Well, there isn't much you can do for these chaps who have let the East crumble their morale except give them something to buy a couple of drinks with, and I was just starting to feel in my pocket for a baht or a tical, when from under that tattered shirt of his this chap Sycamore produced something that brought a gasp to my lips. Even Tubby Frobisher and the Subahdar, though they hadn't been introduced, had to stop trying to pretend there wasn't anybody there and sit up and take notice.

"Sabatga!" said Tubby. "Pom bahoo!" said the Subahdar. And I don't wonder they were surprised. It was this pendant which you have seen tonight on the neck ..." Captain Biggar faltered for a moment. He was remembering how that neck had felt beneath his fingers. "... on the neck," he proceeded, calling all his manhood to his aid, "of Mrs.

Spottsworth."

"Golly!" said Bill, and even Jeeves, from the fact that the muscle at the side of his mouth twitched briefly, seemed to be feeling that after a slow start the story had begun to move. One saw now that all that stingah stuff had been merely the artful establishing of atmosphere, the setting of the stage for the big scene.

""I suppose you wouldn't care to buy this, Bimbo, old boy?"' this chap Sycamore said, waggling the thing to make it glitter. And I said "Fry me in olive oil, Beau, old boy, where did you get that?"'."

"That's just what I was going to ask," said Bill, all agog. "Where did he?"

"God knows. I ought not to have inquired. It was dashed bad form. That's one thing you learn very early out East of Suez. Never ask questions. No doubt there was some dark history behind the thing ... robbery ... possibly murder. I didn't ask.

All I said was "How much?"' and he named a price far beyond the resources of my purse, and it looked as though the thing was going to be a washout. But fortunately Tubby Frobisher and the Subahdar—

I'd introduced them by this time—offered to chip in, and between us we met his figure and he went off, back into the murk and shadows from which he had emerged.

Sad thing, very sad. I remember seeing this chap Sycamore make a hundred and forty-six in a house cricket match at school before being caught low down in the gully off a googly that dipped and swung away late. On a sticky wicket, too," said Captain Biggar, and was silent for awhile, his thoughts in the past.

He came back into the present.

"So there you are," he said, with the air of one who has told a well-rounded tale.

"But how did you get it?" said Bill.

"Eh?"

"The pendant. You said it was yours, and the way I see it is that it passed into the possession of a syndicate."

"Oh, ah, yes, I didn't tell you that, did I? We shook dice for it and I won.

Tubby was never lucky with the bones. Nor was the Subahdar."

"And how did Mrs. Spottsworth get it?"

"I gave it her."

"You gave it her?"

"Why not? The dashed thing was no use to me, and I had received many kindnesses from Mrs.

Spottsworth and her husband. Poor chap was killed by a lion and what was left of him shipped off to Nairobi, and when Mrs. Spottsworth was leaving the camp on the following day I thought it would be a civil thing to give her something as a memento and all that, so I lugged out the pendant and asked her if she'd care to have it. She said she would, so I slipped it to her, and she went off with it. That's what I meant when I said you might say that the bally thing was really mine," said Captain Biggar, and helped himself to another whisky.

Bill was impressed.

"This puts a different complexion on things, Jeeves."

"Distinctly, m'lord."

"After all, as Pop Biggar says, the pendant practically belongs to him, and he merely wants to borrow it for an hour or two."

"Precisely, m'lord."

Bill turned to the Captain. His mind was made up.

"It's a deal," he said.

"You'll do it?"

"I'll have a shot."

"Stout fellow!"

"Let's hope it comes off."

"It'll come off all right. The clasp is loose."

"I meant I hoped nothing would go wrong."

Captain Biggar scouted the idea. He was all buoyancy and optimism.

"Go wrong? What can possibly go wrong?

You'll be able to think of a hundred ways of getting the dashed thing, two brainy fellers like you.

Well," said the Captain, finishing his whisky, "I'll be going out and doing my exercises."

"At this time of night?"

"Breathing exercises," explained Captain Biggar. "Yoga. And with it, of course, communion with the Jivatma or soul. Toodle-oo, chaps."

He pushed the curtains aside, and passed through the French window.

A long and thoughtful silence followed his departure. The room seemed very still, as rooms always did when Captain Biggar went out of them. Bill was sitting with his chin supported by his hand, like Rodin's Penseur. Then he looked at Jeeves and, having looked, shook his head.

"No, Jeeves," he said.

"M'lord?"

"I can see that feudal gleam in your eye, Jeeves. You are straining at the leash, all eagerness to lend the young master a helping hand. Am I right?"

"I was certainly feeling, m'lord, that in view of our relationship of thane and vassal it was my duty to afford your lordship all the assistance that lay within my power."

Bill shook his head again.

"No, Jeeves, that's out. Nothing will induce me to allow you to go getting yourself mixed up in an enterprise which, should things not pan out as planned, may quite possibly culminate in a five-year stretch at one of our popular prisons. I shall handle this binge alone, and I want no back-chat about it."

"But, m'lord—"

"No back-chat, I said, Jeeves."

"Very good, m'lord."

"All I require from you is advice and counsel. Let us review the position of affairs. We have here a diamond pendant which at the moment of going to press is on the person of Mrs. Spottsworth. The task confronting me —I said me, Jeeves—is somehow to detach this pendant from this person and nip away with it unobserved. Any suggestions?"