“Sir?”
“How much money is there on the dressing-table?”
“Sir, there are two five-pound notes, three onepounds, a ten shillings, two half-crowns, a florin, four shillings, a sixpence, and a halfpenny, sir.”
“Take it all,” I said. “You’ve earned it.”
13
The Great Sermon Competition
London, about a couple of weeks after that spectacular finish of young Bingo’s which I’ve just been telling you about, was empty and smelled of burning asphalt. All my pals were away, most of the theatres were shut.
It was most infernally hot. Jeeves came in with drinks on a tray.
“Jeeves,” I said, “it’s beastly hot.”
“The weather is oppressive, sir.”
“I think we need a change, Jeeves.”
“Just as you say, sir. There is a letter on the tray, sir.”
I opened the letter.
“Jeeves, do you know Twing Hall[166]?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, Mr Little is there.”
“Indeed, sir?”
“Absolutely. He’s again a tutor.”
After that mix-up at Goodwood, when young Bingo Little disappeared, I had been looking for him everywhere, asking mutual friends if they had heard anything of him, but nobody had. And all the time he had been at Twing Hall. Strange. And I’ll tell you why it was strange. Twing Hall belongs to old Lord Wickhammersley[167], a great pal of my father when he was alive. I generally spent there a week or two sometime in the summer, and I was thinking of going there before I read the letter.
“And what’s more, Jeeves, my cousin Claude, and my cousin Eustace—you remember them?”
“Very vividly, sir.”
“Well, they’re down there, too, preparing for some exam with the vicar. I used to read with him myself at one time.”
I read the letter again. It was from Eustace. Claude and Eustace are twins, and are the curse of the human race.
The Vicarage,
Twing, Glos.
Dear Bertie,
Do you want to make a bit of money? I hear you had a bad Goodwood, so you probably do. Well, come down here quick and get in on the biggest sporting event of the season. I’ll explain when I see you, but you can take it from me it’s all right.
Claude and I are studying at old Heppenstall’s[168]. There are nine of us, not counting your pal Bingo Little, who is tutoring the kid up at the Hall.
Don’t miss this golden opportunity, which may never occur again. Come and join us.
Yours,
I handed this to Jeeves. He studied it thoughtfully.
“What do you think of it? A strange letter, eh?”
“I can imagine, sir, these young gentlemen, Mr Claude and Mr Eustace are preparing for some game.”
“Yes. But what game, how do you think?”
“It is impossible to say, sir. Did you observe that the letter continues over the page?”
“Eh, what?” I grabbed the letter. This was what was on the other side of the last page:
SERMON
RUNNERS AND BETTING[169]
PROBABLE STARTERS
Rev. Joseph Tucker (Badgwick), scratch[170].
Rev. Leonard Starkie (Stapleton)[171], scratch.
Rev. Alexander Jones (Upper Bingley)[172], receives three minutes.
Rev. W. Dix (Little Clickton-on-the-Wold)[173], receives five minutes.
Rev. Francis Heppenstall (Twing)[174], receives eight minutes.
Rev. Cuthbert Dibble (Boustead Parva)[175], receives nine minutes.
Rev. Orlo Hough (Boustead Magna)[176], receives nine minutes.
Rev. J. J. Roberts (Fale-by-the-Water)[177], receives ten minutes.
Rev. G. Hayward (Lower Bingley)[178], receives twelve minutes.
Rev. James Bates (Gandle-by-the-Hill)[179], receives fifteen minutes.
(The above have arrived.)
Prices: 5-2, Tucker, Starkie; 3-1, Jones; 9-2, Dix; 6-1, Heppenstall, Dibble, Hough; 100-8 any other.
It surprised me.
“Do you understand it, Jeeves?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, I think we ought to have a look into it, anyway, what?”
“Undoubtedly, sir.”
“Send a telegram to Lord Wickhammersley to say we’re coming, and buy two tickets on the five-ten at Paddington[180] tomorrow.”
The five-ten was late as usual, and everybody was dressing for dinner when I arrived at the Hall. I slid into the vacant chair, and found that I was sitting next to old Wickhammersleyэs youngest daughter, Cynthia[181].
“Oh, hallo,” I said.
Great pals we’ve always been. In fact, there was a time when I had an idea I was in love with Cynthia. However, it went away. A pretty and lively and attractive girl, mind you, but full of ideals and all that. I may be wrong, but I have an idea that she’s the sort of girl who would want a fellow to make a career. I know I’ve heard her speak favourably of Napoleon[182].
“Well, Bertie, so you’ve arrived?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve arrived. Yes, here I am. I say, who are all these coves?”
“Oh, just people from round about. You know most of them. You remember Colonel Willis[183], and the Spencers[184]—”
“Of course, yes. And there’s old Heppenstall. Who’s the other clergyman next to Mrs Spencer?”
“Mr Hayward, from Lower Bingley.”
“How many clergymen! Oh, there’s another, next to Mrs Willis.”
“That’s Mr Bates, Mr Heppenstall’s nephew. He’s down here during the summer holidays.”
“I thought I knew his face. I saw him at Oxford.”
I took another look round the table, and noticed young Bingo.
“Ah, there he is,” I said. “There’s the old man.”
“There’s who?”
“Young Bingo Little. Great pal of mine. He’s tutoring your brother, you know.”
“Good gracious! Is he a friend of yours?”
“Exactly! Known him all my life.”
“Then tell me, Bertie, is he weak in the head[185]?”
“Weak in the head?”
“Of course, he’s a friend of yours. But he’s so strange in his manner.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he looks at me so oddly.”
“Oddly? How? Give me an imitation.”
“I can’t in front of all these people.”
“Yes, you can. I’ll hold my napkin up.”
“All right, then. Quick. There!”
Considering that she had only about a second and a half to do it in, I must say it was a fine exhibition. She opened her mouth and eyes pretty wide and managed to look so like a dyspeptic calf that I recognized the symptoms immediately.
“Oh, that’s all right,” I said. “No need to worry. He’s simply in love with you.”
“In love with me? Don’t be absurd.”
“My dear, you don’t know young Bingo. He can fall in love with anybody.’”
“Thank you!”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way, you know. He is in love with you, no wonder. Why, I was in love with you myself once.”
“Once? Ah! This isn’t one of your tactful evenings, Bertie.”
“Well, my dear, dash it, considering that you nearly laughed yourself into a permanent state of hiccoughs when I asked you—”