Pelham Wodehouse - The Intrusion of Jimmy

There was a pipe in the pocket of his coat. He thrust the stem earnestly against the lining. Sir Thomas eyed the protuberance apprehensively, and turned a little pale. Jimmy was scowling ferociously. Arthur Mifflin's scowl in act three had been much admired.

"My gun," said Jimmy, "is, as you see, in my pocket. I always shoot from the pocket, in spite of the tailor's bills. The little fellow is loaded and cocked. He's pointing straight at your diamond solitaire. That fatal spot! No one has ever been hit in the diamond solitaire, and survived. My finger is on the trigger. So, I should recommend you not to touch that bell you are looking at. There are other reasons why you shouldn't, but those I will go into presently."

Sir Thomas's hand wavered.

"Do if you like, of course," said Jimmy, agreeably. "It's your own house. But I shouldn't. I am a dead shot at a yard and a half. You wouldn't believe the number of sitting haystacks I've picked off at that distance. I just can't miss. On second thoughts, I sha'n't fire to kill you. Let us be humane on this joyful occasion. I shall just smash your knees. Painful, but not fatal."

He waggled the pipe suggestively. Sir Thomas blenched. His hand fell to his side.

"Great!" said Jimmy. "After all, why should you be in a hurry to break up this very pleasant little meeting. I'm sure I'm not. Let us chat. How are the theatricals going? Was the duologue a success? Wait till you see our show. Three of us knew our lines at the dress-rehearsal."

Sir Thomas had backed away from the bell, but the retreat was merely for the convenience of the moment. He understood that it might be injudicious to press the button just then; but he had recovered his composure by this time, and he saw that ultimately the game must be his. His face resumed its normal hue. Automatically, his hands began to move toward his coat-tails, his feet to spread themselves. Jimmy noted with a smile these signs of restored complacency. He hoped ere long to upset that complacency somewhat.

Sir Thomas addressed himself to making Jimmy's position clear to him.

"How, may I ask," he said, "do you propose to leave the castle?"

"Won't you let me have the automobile?" said Jimmy. "But I guess I sha'n't be leaving just yet."

Sir Thomas laughed shortly.

"No," he said—"no! I fancy not. I am with you there!"

"Great minds," said Jimmy. "I shouldn't be surprised if we thought alike on all sorts of subjects. Just think how you came round to my views on ringing bells. But what made you fancy that I intended to leave the castle?"

"I should hardly have supposed that you would be anxious to stay."

"On the contrary! It's the one place I have been in, in the last two years, that I have felt really satisfied with. Usually, I want to move on after a week. But I could stop here forever."

"I am afraid, Mr. Pitt—By the way, an alias, of course?"

Jimmy shook his head.

"I fear not," he said. "If I had chosen an alias, it would have been Tressilyan, or Trevelyan, or something. I call Pitt a poor thing in names. I once knew a man called Ronald Cheylesmore. Lucky devil!"

Sir Thomas returned to the point on which he had been about to touch.

"I am afraid, Mr. Pitt," he said, "that you hardly realize your position."

"No?" said Jimmy, interested.

"I find you in the act of stealing my wife's necklace—"

"Would there be any use in telling you that I was not stealing it, but putting it back?"

Sir Thomas raised his eyebrows in silence.

"No?" said Jimmy. "I was afraid not. You were saying—?"

"I find you in the act of stealing my wife's necklace," proceeded Sir Thomas, "and, because for the moment you succeed in postponing arrest by threatening me with a revolver—"

An agitated look came into Jimmy's face.

"Great Scott!" he cried. He felt hastily in his pocket.

"Yes," he said; "as I had begun to fear. I owe you an apology, Sir Thomas," he went on with manly dignity, producing the briar, "I am entirely to blame. How the mistake arose I cannot imagine, but I find it isn't a revolver after all."

Sir Thomas' cheeks took on a richer tint of purple. He glared dumbly at the pipe.

"In the excitement of the moment, I guess—" began Jimmy.

Sir Thomas interrupted. The recollection of his needless panic rankled within him.

"You—you—you—"

"Count ten!"

"You—what you propose to gain by this buffoonery, I am at a loss—"

"How can you say such savage things!" protested Jimmy. "Not buffoonery! Wit! Esprit! Flow of soul such as circulates daily in the best society."

Sir Thomas almost leaped toward the bell. With his finger on it, he turned to deliver a final speech.

"I believe you're insane," he cried, "but I'll have no more of it. I have endured this foolery long enough. I'll-"

"Just one moment," said Jimmy. "I said just now that there were reasons besides the revol—well, pipe—why you should not ring that bell. One of them is that all the servants will be in their places in the audience, so that there won't be anyone to answer it. But that's not the most convincing reason. Will you listen to one more before getting busy?"

"I see your game. Don't imagine for a moment that you can trick me."

"Nothing could be further—"

"You fancy you can gain time by talking, and find some way to escape—"

"But I don't want to escape. Don't you realize that in about ten minutes I am due to play an important part in a great drama on the stage?"

"I'll keep you here, I tell you. You'll leave this room," said Sir homas, grandly, "over my body."

"Steeple-chasing in the home," murmured Jimmy. "No more dull evenings. But listen. Do listen! I won't keep you a minute, and, if you want to—push that bell after I'm through, you may push it six inches into the wall if you like."

"Well," said Sir Thomas, shortly.

"Would you like me to lead gently up to what I want to say, gradually preparing you for the reception of the news, or shall I—?"

The knight took out his watch.

"I shall give you one minute," he said.

"Heavens, I must hustle! How many seconds have I got now?"

"If you have anything to say, say it."

"Very well, then," said Jimmy. "It's only this: That necklace is a fraud. The diamonds aren't diamonds at all. They're paste!"

If Jimmy had entertained any doubts concerning the effectiveness of this disclosure, they would have vanished at the sight of the other's face. Just as the rich hues of a sunset pale slowly into an almost imperceptible green, so did the purple of Sir Thomas's cheeks become, in stages, first a dull red, then pink, and finally take on a uniform pallor. His mouth hung open. His attitude of righteous defiance had crumpled. Unsuspected creases appeared in his clothes. He had the appearance of one who has been caught in the machinery.

Jimmy was a little puzzled. He had expected to check the enemy, to bring him to reason, but not to demolish him in this way. There was something in this which he did not understand. When Spike had handed him the stones, and his trained eye, after a moment's searching examination, had made him suspicious, and when, finally, a simple test had proved his suspicions correct, he was comfortably aware that, though found with the necklace on his person, he had knowledge, which, communicated to Sir Thomas, would serve him well. He knew that Lady Julia was not the sort of lady who would bear calmly the announcement that her treasured rope of diamonds was a fraud. He knew enough of her to know that she would demand another necklace, and see that she got it; and that Sir Thomas was not one of those generous and expansive natures which think nothing of an expenditure of twenty thousand pounds.