Pelham Wodehouse - The Return of Jeeves

"Very good, m'lord."

"They are splashed on my soul in glorious technicolor."

"Quite so, m'lord."

"Who was it who said that when he or she was dead, the word something would be found carved on his or her heart?"

"Queen Mary, m'lord, the predecessor of the great Queen Elizabeth. The word was "Calais", and the observation was intended to convey her chagrin at the loss of that town."

"Well, when I die, which will be very shortly if I go on feeling as I do now, just cut me open, Jeeves—"

"Certainly, m'lord."

"—and I'll bet you a couple of bob you'll find carved on my heart the words "Three thousand and five pounds two and six"."

Bill rose and paced the room with fevered steps.

"How does one scrape together a sum like that, Jeeves?"

"It will call for thrift, m'lord."

"You bet it will. It'll take years."

"And Captain Biggar struck me as an impatient gentleman."

"You needn't rub it in, Jeeves."

"Very good, m'lord."

"Let's keep our minds on the present."

"Yes, m'lord. Remember that man's life lies all within this present, as 'twere but a hair's breadth of time. As for the rest, the past is gone, the future yet unseen."

"Eh?"

"Marcus Aurelius, m'lord."

"Oh? Well, as I was saying, let us glue our minds on what is going to happen if this Biggar suddenly blows in here. Do you think he'll recognize me?"

"I am inclined to fancy not, m'lord. The moustache and the patch formed a very effective disguise. After all, in the past few months we have encountered several gentlemen of your lordship's acquaintance—"

"And not one of them spotted me."

"No, m'lord. Nevertheless, facing the facts, I fear we must regard this afternoon's episode as a set-back. It is clearly impossible for us to function at the Derby tomorrow."

"I was looking forward to cleaning up on the Derby."

"I, too, m'lord. But after what has occurred, one's entire turf activities must, I fear, be regarded as suspended indefinitely."

"You don't think we could risk one more pop?"

"No, m'lord."

"I see what you mean, of course. Show up at Epsom tomorrow, and the first person we'd run into would be this Captain Biggar—"

"Straddling, like Apollyon, right across the way.

Precisely, m'lord."

Bill passed a hand through his disordered hair.

"If only I had frozen on to the money we made at Newmarket!"

"Yes, m'lord. Of all sad words of tongue or pen the saddest are these—It might have been.

Whittier."

"You warned me not to let our capital fall too low."

"I felt that we were not equipped to incur any heavy risk. That was why I urged your lordship so vehemently to lay Captain Biggar's second wager off. I had misgivings. True, the probability of the double bearing fruit at such odds was not great, but when I saw Whistler's Mother pass us on her way to the starting-post, I was conscious of a tremor of uneasiness. Those long legs, that powerful rump ..."

"Don't, Jeeves!"

"Very good, m'lord."

"I'm trying not to think of Whistler's Mother."

"I quite understand, m'lord."

"Who the dickens was Whistler, anyway?"

"A figure, landscape and portrait painter of considerable distinction, m'lord, born in Lowell, Massachusetts, in 1834. His "Portrait of my Mother", painted in 1872, is particularly esteemed by the cognoscenti and was purchased by the French Government for the Luxembourg Gallery, Paris, in 1892. His works are individual in character and notable for subtle colour harmony."

Bill breathed a little stertorously.

"It's subtle, is it?"

"Yes, m'lord."

"I see. Thanks for telling me. I was worrying myself sick about his colour harmony."

Bill became calmer. "Jeeves, if the worst comes to the worst and Biggar does catch me bending, can I gain a bit of time by pleading the Gaming Act?"

"I fear not, m'lord. You took the gentleman's money. A cash transaction."

"It would mean choky, you feel?"

"I fancy so, m'lord."

"Would you be jugged, too, as my clerk?"

"In all probability, m'lord. I am not quite certain on the point. I should have to consult my solicitor."

"But I would be for it?"

"Yes, m'lord. The sentences, however, are not, I believe, severe."

"But think of the papers. The ninth Earl of Rowcester, whose ancestors held the field at Agincourt, skipped from the field at Epsom with a slavering punter after him. It'll be jam for the newspaper boys."

"Unquestionably the circumstance of your lordship having gone into business as a Silver Ring bookmaker would be accorded wide publicity."

Bill, who had been pacing the floor again, stopped in mid-stride and regarded the speaker with an accusing eye.

"And who was it suggested that I should go into business as a Silver Ring bookie? You, Jeeves. I don't want to be harsh, but you must own that the idea came from you. You were the—"

"Fons et origo mali, m'lord? That, I admit, is true. But if your lordship will recall, we were in something of a quandary. We had agreed that your lordship's impending marriage made it essential to augment your lordship's slender income, and we went through the Classified Trades section of the telephone directory in quest of a possible profession which your lordship might adopt. It was merely because nothing of a suitable nature had presented itself by the time we reached the T's that I suggested Turf Accountant faute de mieux."

"Faute de what?"

"Mieux, m'lord. A French expression.

We should say "for want of anything better"."

"What asses these Frenchmen are! Why can't they talk English?"

"They are possibly more to be pitied than censured, m'lord. Early upbringing no doubt has a good deal to do with it. As I was saying, it seemed to me a happy solution of your lordship's difficulties. In the United States of America, I believe, bookmakers are considered persons of a somewhat low order and are, indeed, suppressed by the police, but in England it is very different. Here they are looked up to and courted. There is a school of thought which regards them as the new aristocracy. They make a great deal of money, and have the added gratification of not paying income-tax."

Bill sighed wistfully.

"We made a lot of money up to Newmarket."

"Yes, m'lord."

"And where is it now?"

"Where, indeed, m'lord?"

"I shouldn't have spent so much doing up the place."

"No, m'lord."

"And it was a mistake to pay my tailor's bill."

"Yes, m'lord. One feels that your lordship did somewhat overdo it there. As the old Roman observed, ne quid nimis."

"Yes, that was rash. Still, no good beefing about it now, I suppose."

"No, m'lord. The moving finger writes, and having writ—"

"Hoy!"

"—moves on, nor all your piety and wit can lure it back to cancel half a line nor all your tears wash out one word of it. You were saying, m'lord?"

"I was only going to ask you to cheese it."

"Certainly, m'lord."

"Not in the mood."

"Quite so, m'lord. It was only the appositeness of the quotation—from the works of the Persian poet Omar Khayy@am—that led me to speak. I wonder if I might ask a question, m'lord?"

"Yes, Jeeves?"

"Is Miss Wyvern aware of your lordship's professional connection with the turf?"

Bill quivered like an aspen at the mere suggestion.

"I should say not. She would throw fifty-seven fits if she knew. I've rather given her the idea that I'm employed by the Agricultural Board."

"A most respectable body of men."

"I didn't actually say so in so many words.

I just strewed the place with Agricultural Board report forms and took care she saw them.

Did you know that they issue a hundred and seventy-nine different blanks other than the seventeen questionnaires?"

"No, m'lord. I was not aware. It shows zeal."