Thank You, Jeeves

'Good. You'd better not.'

The first nausea had worn off somewhat by this time, and it was a kindlier Bertram Wooster who now displayed himself. I am a broad-minded man, and I reflected charitably that it was wrong to be hard on a fellow in Chuffy's situation. After all, in the special circumstances he could scarcely be expected to preserve the decencies. I struck a conciliatory note.

'Chuffy, old man,' I said, 'we must not allow ourselves to brawl. This is a moment for the genial eye and the affable smile. No one could be more delighted than myself that you and this old friend of mine have buried the dead past and started all square again together. I may look on myself as an old friend, may I not?'

She beamed in a cordial manner.

'Well, I should hope so, you poor ditherer. Why, I knew you before I ever met Marmaduke.'

I turned to Chuffy.

'This Marmaduke business. I want to take that up with you some time. Fancy you keeping that dark all these years.'

'There's nothing wrong in being christened Marmaduke, is there?' said Chuffy, a little heatedly.

'Nothing wrong, no. But we shall all have a good laugh about it at the Drones.'

'Bertie,' said Chuffy tensely, 'if you breathe a word of it to those blighters at the Drones, I'll track you to the ends of the earth and strangle you with my bare hands.'

'Well, well, we must see, we must see. But, as I was saying, I am delighted that this reconciliation has taken place. Being, as I am, one of Pauline's closest friends. We had some pretty good times together in the old days, didn't we?'

'You bet.'

'That day at Piping Rock.'

'Ah.'

'And do you remember the night the car broke down and we were stranded for hours somewhere in the wilds of Westchester County in the rain?'

'I should say so.'

'Your feet got wet, and I very wisely took your stockings off.'

'Here!' said Chuffy.

'Oh, it's all right, old man. I conducted myself throughout with the nicest propriety. All I am trying to establish is that I am an old friend of Pauline's and am consequently entitled to rejoice at the present situation. There are few more charming girls than this P. Stoker, and you are lucky to have won her, old man, in spite of the fact that she is handicapped by possessing a father who bears a striking resemblance to something out of the Book of Revelation.'

'Father's a good enough egg if you rub him the right way.'

'You hear that, Chuffy? In rubbing this bally old thug, be sure to do it the right way.'

'He is not a bally old thug.'

'Pardon me. I appeal to Chuffy.'

Chuffy scratched his chin. Somewhat embarrassed.

'I must say, angel, he does strike me at times as a bit above the odds.'

'Exactly,' I said. 'And never forget that he is resolved that Pauline shall marry me.'

'What!'

'Didn't you know that? Oh, yes.'

Pauline was wearing a sort of Joan of Arc look.

'I'm darned if I'll marry you, Bertie.'

'The right spirit,' I said approvingly. 'But can you preserve that intrepid attitude when you see Pop breathing flame through his nostrils and chewing broken bottles in the foreground? Will you not, if I may coin a phrase, be afraid of the big bad wolf?'

She wavered a bit.

'We're going to have a tough time with him, of course. I can see that. He's pretty sore with you, angel, you know.'

Chuffy puffed out his chest.

'I'll attend to him!'

'No,' I said firmly, 'I will attend to him. Leave the whole conduct of the affair to me.'

Pauline laughed. I didn't like it. It seemed to me to have a derogatory ring.

'You! Why, you poor lamb, you would run a mile if Father so much as said 'Boo!' to you.'

I raised the eyebrows.

'I anticipate no such contingency. Why should he say 'Boo!' to me? I mean, a damn silly thing for anybody to say to anyone. And even if he did make that idiotic observation, the effects would not be such as you have outlined. That I was once a little on the nervous side in your parent's presence, I admit. But no longer. Not any more. The scales have fallen from my eyes. Recently I have seen him in the space of something under three minutes reduced by Jeeves from a howling blizzard to a gentle breeze, and his spell is broken. When he comes, you may leave him to me with every confidence. I shall not be rough with him, but I shall be very firm.'

Chuffy looked a bit thoughtful.

'Is he coming?'

Outside in the garden, footsteps had become audible. Also heavy breathing. I jerked a thumb at the window.

'This, if I mistake not, Watson,' I said, 'is our client now.'

20 JEEVES HAS NEWS

And so it was. A substantial form appeared against the summer sky. It entered. It took a seat. And, having taken a seat, it hauled out a handkerchief and started to mop the brow. A bit preoccupied, I divined, and my trained sense enabled me to recognize the symptoms. They were those of a man who had just been hobnobbing with Brinkley.

That this diagnosis was correct was proved a moment later when, lowering the handkerchief for a space, he disclosed what had all the makings of a very sweetish black eye.

Pauline, sighting this, uttered a daughterly yip.

'What on earth has been happening, Father?'

Old Stoker breathed heavily.

'I couldn't get at the fellow,' he said, with a sort of wild regret in his voice.

'What fellow?'

'I don't know who he was. Some lunatic in that Dower House. He stood there at the window, throwing potatoes at me. I had hardly knocked at the door, when he was there at the window, throwing potatoes. Wouldn't come out like a man and let me get at him. Just stood at the window, throwing potatoes.'

I confess that, as I heard these words, a sort of reluctant admiration for this bloke Brinkley stole over me. We could never be friends, of course, but one had to admit that he was a man who could do the right and public-spirited thing when the occasion called. I took it that old Stoker's banging on the knocker had roused him from a morning- after reverie to the discovery that he had a pretty nasty headache, and that he had instantly started to take steps through the proper channels. All most satisfactory.

'You can consider yourself dashed lucky,' I said, pointing out the bright side, 'that the fellow elected to deal with you at long range. For close-quarters work he usually employs a carving knife or a chopper, and a good deal of clever footwork is called for.'

He had been so wrapped up in his own concerns till now that I don't think he had got on to the fact that Bertram was with him once more. At any rate, he stared quite a bit.

'Ah, Stoker,' I said airily, to help him out.

He continued to goggle.

'Are you Wooster?' he asked, in what seemed to me a rather awed way.