Thank You, Jeeves

'He will not speak?'

'Not a syllable.'

'Well, why would he? Surely you realize that there is a certain decency in these matters, a certain decorum? Naturally he wouldn't say anything yet. Dash it, give the man a chance. He's only known you five days.'

'I sometimes feel that he was a king in Babylon when I was a Christian slave.'

'What makes you think that?'

'I just do.'

'Well, you know best, of course. Very doubtful, I should have said myself. And, anyway, what do you want me to do about it?'

'Well, you're a friend of his. You could give him a hint. You could tell him there's no need for cold feet....'

'It is not cold feet. It is delicacy. As I just explained, we men have our code in these matters. We may fall in love pretty nippily, but after that we consider it decorous to backpedal awhile. We are the parfait gentle knights, and we feel that it ill beseems us to make a beeline for a girl like a man charging into a railway restaurant for a bowl of soup. We ...'

'What utter nonsense! You asked me to marry you after you had known me two weeks.'

'Ah, but there you were dealing with one of the Wild Woosters.'

'Well, I can't see ...'

'Yes?' I said. 'Proceed. You have our ear.'

But she was looking past me at something to the south-east; and, turning, I perceived that we were no longer alone.

There, standing in an attitude of respectful courtliness, with the sunshine playing upon his finely chiselled features, was Jeeves.

5 BERTIE TAKES THINGS IN HAND

I nodded affably. This man and I might have severed our professional relations, but a Wooster is always debonair.

'Ah, Jeeves.'

'Good afternoon, sir.'

Pauline appeared interested.

'Is this Jeeves?'

'This is Jeeves.'

'So you don't like Mr Wooster's banjolele?'

'No, miss.'

I preferred that this delicate matter be not discussed, and it may be, in consequence, that I spoke a little curtly.

'Well, Jeeves? What is it?'

'Mr Stoker, sir. He is inquiring after Miss Stoker's whereabouts.'

Well, of course, there's always that old one about them being at the wash, but this seemed to me neither the time nor the place. I turned to the girl with an air of courteous dismissal.

'You'd better push along.'

'I suppose so. You won't forget what I said?'

'The matter,' I assured her, 'shall have my prompt attention.'

She legged it, and Jeeves and I were alone together in the great solitude. I lit a cigarette nonchalantly.

'Well, Jeeves.'

'Sir?'

'I mean to say, we meet again.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Philippi, what?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I hope you're getting on all right with Chuffy?'

'Everything is most pleasant, sir. I trust your new personal attendant is giving satisfaction?'

'Oh, quite. A sterling fellow.'

'I am extremely gratified to hear it, sir.'

There was a pause.

'Er, Jeeves,' I said.

A rummy thing. It had been my intention, after exchanging these few civilities, to nod carelessly and leave the fellow. But it's so dashed difficult to break the habit of years. I mean to say, here was I and here was Jeeves, and a problem had been put up to me of just the type concerning which I had always been wont to seek his advice and counsel, and now something seemed to keep me rooted to the spot. And instead of being aloof and distant and passing on with the slight inclination of the head which, as I say, I had been planning, I found myself irresistibly impelled to consult him just as if there had been no rift at all.

'Er – Jeeves,' I said.

'Sir?'

'I should rather like, if you have a moment to spare, to split a word with you.'

'Certainly, sir.'

'I wish to canvass your views regarding old Chuffy.'

'Very good, sir.'

His face was wearing that expression of quiet intelligence combined with a feudal desire to oblige which I had so often seen upon it, and I hesitated no longer.

'You will agree with me that something's got to be done about the fifth Baron, I take it?'

'I beg your pardon, sir?'

I was impatient with this – what the dickens is the word I want?

'Come, come, Jeeves. You know what I mean as well as I do. A little less coyness and a bit more of the old rallying round spirit. You can't tell me you've been in his employment for nearly a week without observing and deducing and forming your conclusions.'

'Am I correct in supposing, sir, that you are alluding to his lordship's feelings towards Miss Stoker?'

'Exactly.'

'I am, of course, aware that his lordship is experiencing for the young lady a sentiment deeper and warmer than that of ordinary friendship, sir.'

'Would I be going too far if I said that he was potty about her?'

'No, sir. The expression would meet the facts of the case quite adequately.'

'Very well, then. Now, mark this. She, too, loves, Jeeves.'

'Indeed, sir?'

'She was telling me so specifically when you came along. She confessed herself dippy about the man. And she's very upset, poor fish. Extremely upset. Her feminine intuition has enabled her to read his secret. She detects the lovelight in his eyes. And she is all for it. And what is worrying her is that he does not tell his love, but lets concealment like ... like what, Jeeves?'

'A worm i' the bud, sir.'

'Feed on his something ...'

'Damask cheek, sir.'

'Damask? You're sure?'

'Quite sure, sir.'

'Well, then, what on earth is it all about? He loves her. She loves him. So what's the snag? In conversing with her just now, I advanced the theory that what was holding him back was delicacy, but I didn't really believe it. I know Chuffy. A swift performer, if ever there was one. If he didn't propose to a girl by the end of the first week, he would think he was losing his grip. Yet now look at him. Missing on every cylinder. Why?'

'His lordship is a gentleman of scruples, sir.'

'How do you mean?'

'He feels that, being of straitened means himself, he has not the right to propose marriage to a young lady as wealthy as Miss Stoker.'

'But, dash it, Love laughs at ... no, it doesn't ... it's at locksmiths, isn't it?'

'At locksmiths, yes, sir.'

'Besides, she isn't as rich as all that. Just comfortably off, I should have said.'

'No, sir. Mr Stoker's fortune amounts to as much as fifty million dollars.'

'What! You're talking through your hat, Jeeves.'

'No, sir. I understand that that was the sum which he inherited recently under the will of the late Mr George Stoker.'

I was stunned.

'Good Lord, Jeeves! Has Second Cousin George kicked the bucket?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And left all his money to old Stoker?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Now I see. Now I understand—This explains everything. I was wondering how he managed to be going about buying vast estates. That yacht in the harbour is his, of course?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Well, well, well! But, dash it, George must have had nearer relations.'

'Yes, sir. I understand that he disliked them all.'

'You know about him, then?'

'Yes, sir. I saw a good deal of his personal attendant when we were in New York. A man named Benstead.'

'He was potty, wasn't he?'

'Certainly extremely eccentric, sir.'

'Any chance of one of those other relations contesting the will?'

'I do not imagine so, sir. But in such a case Mr Stoker would rely on Sir Roderick Glossop, of course, to testify that the late Mr Stoker, while possibly somewhat individual in his habits, was nevertheless perfectly sane. The testimony of so eminent a mental specialist as Sir Roderick would be unassailable.'