Thank You, Jeeves

'Yes, sir. The reason I hesitated to advance it was that I feared you might not approve of the idea of covering your face with boot polish.'

'What!'

'Time being of the essence, sir, I think it would not be advisable to employ burnt cork.'

I turned my face to the wall. It was the end.

'Leave me, Jeeves,' I said. 'You've been having a couple.'

And I'm not sure that what cut me like a knife, more even than any agony at my fearful predicament, was not the realization that my original suspicions had been correct and that, after all these years, that superb brain had at last come unstuck. For, though I had tactfully affected to set all this talk of burnt cork and boot polish down to mere squiffiness, in my heart I was convinced that the fellow had gone off his onion.

He coughed.

'If you will permit me to explain, sir. The entertainers are just concluding their performance. In a short time they will be leaving the boat.'

I sat up. Hope dawned once more, and remorse gnawed me like a bull pup worrying a rubber bone at the thought that I should have so misjudged this man. I saw what that giant brain was driving at.

'You mean—?'

'I have a small tin of boot polish here, sir. I brought it with me in anticipation of this move. It would be a simple task to apply it to your face and hands in such a manner as to create the illusion, should you encounter Mr Stoker, that you were a member of this troupe of negroid entertainers.'

'Jeeves!'

'The suggestion I would make, sir, is that, if you are amenable to what I propose, we should wait until these black-faced persons have left for the shore. I could then inform the captain that one of them, a personal friend of mine, had lingered behind to talk with me and so had missed the motor launch. I have little doubt that he would accord me permission to row you ashore in one of the smaller boats.'

I stared at the man. Years of intimate acquaintance, the memory of swift ones he had pulled in the past, the knowledge that he lived largely on fish, thus causing his brain to be about as full of phosphorus as the human brain can jolly well stick, had not prepared me for this supreme effort.

'Jeeves,' I said, 'as I have so often had occasion to say before, you stand alone.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Others abide our question. Thou art free.'

'I endeavour to give satisfaction, sir.'

'You think it would work?'

'Yes, sir.'

'The scheme carries your personal guarantee?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And you say you have the stuff handy?'

'Yes, sir.'

I flung myself into a chair and turned the features ceiling-wards.

'Then start smearing, Jeeves,' I said, 'and continue to smear till your trained senses tell you that you have smeared enough.'

13 A VALET EXCEEDS HIS DUTIES

I must say, as a general rule, I always bar stories where the chap who's telling them skips lightly from point to point and leaves you to work it out for yourself as best you can just what has happened in the interim. I mean to say, the sort of story where Chapter Ten ends with the hero trapped in the underground den and Chapter Eleven starts with him being the life and soul of a gay party at the Spanish Embassy. And, strictly speaking, I suppose, I ought at this juncture to describe step by step the various moves which led me to safety and freedom, if you see what I mean.

But when a tactician like Jeeves is in charge of the arrangements, it all seems so unnecessary. Simply a waste of time. If Jeeves sets out to shift a fellow from Spot A to Spot B, from a state-room on a yacht, for instance, to the shore in front of his cottage, he just does it. No hitches. No difficulties. No fuss. No excitement. Absolutely nothing to report. I mean, one just reaches for the nearest tin of boot polish, blacks one's face, strolls across the deck, saunters down the gangway, waves a genial farewell to such members of the crew as may be leaning over the side, spitting into the water, steps into a boat, and in about ten minutes there one is, sniffing the cool night air on the mainland. A smooth bit of work.

I mentioned this to Jeeves as we tied up at the landing stage, and he said it was extremely kind of me to say so.

'Not at all, Jeeves,' I said. 'I repeat. An exceedingly smooth bit of work, and a credit to you.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Thank you, Jeeves. And now what?'

We had left the landing stage and were standing on the road that ran past my garden gate. All was still. The stars twinkled above. We were alone with Nature. There was not even a sign of Police Sergeant Voules or Constable Dobson. Chuffnell Regis slept, as you might say. And yet, looking at my watch, I found that the hour was only a few minutes after nine. It gave me quite a start, I recall. What with stress of emotion, so to speak, and the spirit having been on the rack, as it were, I had got the impression that the night was particularly well advanced, and wouldn't have been surprised to find it one in the morning.

'And now what, Jeeves?' I said.

I noted a soft smile playing over the finely chiselled face and resented same. I was grateful to the man, of course, for having saved me from the fate that is worse than death, but one has to check this sort of thing. I gave him one of my looks.

'Something is tickling you, Jeeves?' I said, coldly.

'I beg your pardon, sir. I had not intended to betray amusement, but I could not help being a little entertained by your appearance. It is somewhat odd, sir.'

'Most people would look somewhat odd with boot polish all over them, Jeeves.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Greta Garbo, to name but one.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Or Dean Inge.'

'Very true, sir.'

'Then spare me these personal comments, Jeeves, and reply to my question.'

'I fear I have forgotten what it was that you asked me, sir.'

'My question was – and is – "Now what?"'

'You desire a suggestion respecting your next move, sir?'

'I do.'

'I would advise repairing to your cottage, sir, and cleansing your face and hands.'

'So far, sound. It is just what I was thinking of doing.'

'After which, if I might hazard the advice, sir, I think it would be well if you were to catch the next train to London.'

'Again, sound.'

'Once there, sir, I would advocate a visit to some Continental resort, such as Paris or Berlin or even, perhaps, as far afield as Italy.'

'Or Sunny Spain?'

'Yes, sir. Possibly Spain.'

'Or even Egypt?'

'You would find Egypt somewhat warm at this season of the year, sir.'

'Not half so warm as England, if Pop Stoker re-establishes connection.'

'Very true, sir.'

'There's a lad, Jeeves! There's a tough citizen! There's a fellow who chews broken glass and drives nails into the back of his neck instead of using a collar stud!'

'Mr Stoker's personality is decidedly forceful, sir.'

'Bless my soul, Jeeves, I can remember the time when I thought Sir Roderick Glossop a man-eater. And even my Aunt Agatha. They pale in comparison, Jeeves. Positively pale. Which brings us to a consideration of your position. Do you intend to go back to the yacht and continue mingling with that gruesome bird?'

'No, sir. I fancy Mr Stoker would not receive me cordially. It will be readily apparent to a gentleman of his intelligence, when he discovers your flight, that I must have been instrumental in assisting you to leave the boat. I shall return to his lordship's employment, sir.'

'He'll be glad to get you back.'