Seeing his sister and her husband, he stopped.
"Oh, hullo, Rory," he said. "Hullo, Moke. I'd forgotten you were here."
Rory advanced with outstretched hand. The dullest eye could have seen he was registering compassion. He clasped Bill's right hand in his own, and with his left hand kneaded Bill's shoulder.
A man, he knew, wants sympathy at a time like this. It is in such a crisis in his affairs that he thanks heaven that he has an understanding brother-in-law, a brother-in-law who knows how to give a pep talk.
"We are not only here, old man," he said, "but we have just heard from Jeeves a bit of news that has frozen our blood. He says the girl Jill has returned you to store. Correct?
I see it is. Too bad, too bad. But don't let it get you down, boy. You must ... how would you put it, Jeeves?"
"Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Sir Roderick."
"Precisely. You want to take the big, broad, spacious view, Bill. You are a fianc@ee short, let's face it, and your immediate reaction is, no doubt, a disposition to rend the garments and scatter ashes on the head. But you've got to look at these things from every angle, Bill, old man. Remember what Shakespeare said: "A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke.""
Jeeves winced.
"Kipling, Sir Roderick."
"And here's another profound truth. I don't know who said this one. All cats are grey in the dark."
Monica spoke. Her lips, as she listened, had been compressed. There was a strange light in her eyes.
"Splendid. Go on."
Rory stopped kneading Bill's shoulder and patted it.
"At the moment," he resumed, "you are reeling from the shock, and very naturally, too. You feel you've lost something valuable, and of course I suppose one might say you have, for Jill's a nice enough kid, no disputing that. But don't be too depressed about it. Look for the silver lining, whenever clouds appear in the blue, as I have frequently sung in my bath and you, I imagine, in yours. Don't forget you are back in circulation again. Personally, I think it's an extremely nice slice of luck for you that this has happened. A bachelor's life is the only happy one, old man. When it comes to love, there's a lot to be said for the "@a la carte" as opposed to the "table d'h@ote"."
"Jeeves," said Monica.
"M'lady?"
"What was the name of the woman who drove a spike into her husband's head? It's in the Bible somewhere."
"I fancy your ladyship is thinking of the story of Jael. But she and the gentleman into whose head she drove the spike were not married, merely good friends."
"Still, her ideas were basically sound."
"It was generally considered so in her circle of acquaintance, m'lady."
"Have you a medium-sized spike, Jeeves?
No? I must look in at the ironmonger's," said Monica. "Good-bye, Table d'h@ote."
She walked out, and Rory watched her go, concerned. His was not a very quick mind, but he seemed to sense something wrong.
"I say! She's miffed. Eh, Jeeves?"
"I received that impression, Sir Roderick."
"Dash it all, I was only saying that stuff about marriage to cheer you up, Bill. Jeeves, where can I get some flowers? And don't say "At the flower shop", because I simply can't sweat all the way to the town. Would there be flowers in the garden?"
"In some profusion, Sir Roderick."
"I'll go and pluck her a bouquet. That's a thing you'll find it useful to remember, Bill, if ever you get married, not that you're likely to, of course, the way things are shaping. Always remember that when the gentler sex get miffed, flowers will bring them round every time."
The door closed. Jeeves turned to Bill.
"Your lordship wished to see me about something?" he said courteously.
Bill passed a hand over his throbbing brow.
"Jeeves," he said, "I hardly know how to begin. Have you an aspirin about you?"
"Certainly, m'lord. I have just been taking one myself."
He produced a small tin box, and held it out.
"Thank you, Jeeves. Don't slam the lid."
"No, m'lord."
"And now," said Bill, "to tell you all."
Jeeves listened with gratifyingly close attention while he poured out his tale. There was no need for Bill at its conclusion to ask him if he had got the gist. It was plain from the gravity of his "Most disturbing, m'lord" that he had got it nicely. Jeeves always got gists.
"If ever a man was in the soup," said Bill, summing up, "I am. I have been played up and made a sucker of. What are those things people get used as, Jeeves?"
"Cat's-paws, m'lord?"
"That's right. Cat's-paws. This blighted Biggar has used me as a cat's-paw. He told me the tale. Like an ass, I believed him. I pinched the pendant, swallowing that whole story of his about it practically belonging to him and he only wanted to borrow it for a few hours, and off he went to London with it, and I don't suppose we shall ever see him again. Do you?"
"It would appear improbable, m'lord."
"One of those remote contingencies, what?"
"Extremely remote, I fear, m'lord."
"You wouldn't care to kick me, Jeeves?"
"No, m'lord."
"I've been trying to kick myself, but it's so dashed difficult if you aren't a contortionist.
All that stuff about stingahs and long bars and the chap Sycamore! We ought to have seen through it in an instant."
"We ought, indeed, m'lord."
"I suppose that when a man has a face as red as that, one tends to feel that he must be telling the truth."
"Very possibly, m'lord."
"And his eyes were so bright and blue. Well, there it is," said Bill. "Whether it was the red face or the blue eyes that did it, one cannot say, but the fact remains that as a result of the general colour scheme I allowed myself to be used as a cat's-paw and pinched an expensive pendant which the hellhound Biggar has gone off to London with, thus rendering myself liable to an extended sojourn in the cooler ... unless—"
"M'lord?"
"I was going to say "Unless you have something to suggest". Silly of me," said Bill, with a hollow laugh. "How could you possibly have anything to suggest?"
"I have, m'lord."
Bill stared.
"You wouldn't try to be funny at a time like this, Jeeves?"
"Certainly not, m'lord."
"You really have a life-belt to throw me before the gumbo closes over my head?"
"Yes, m'lord. In the first place, I would point out to your lordship that there is little or no likelihood of your lordship becoming suspect of the theft of Mrs. Spottsworth's ornament. It has disappeared. Captain Biggar has disappeared. The authorities will put two and two together, m'lord, and automatically credit him with the crime."
"Something in that."
"It would seem impossible, m'lord, for them to fall into any other train of thought."
Bill brightened a little, but only a little.
"Well, that's all to the good, I agree, but it doesn't let me out. You've overlooked something, Jeeves."
"M'lord?"
"The honour of the Rowcesters. That is the snag we come up against. I can't go through life feeling that under my own roof—leaky, but still a roof—I have swiped a valuable pendant from a guest filled to the eyebrows with my salt. How am I to reimburse La Spottsworth? That is the problem to which we have to bend our brains."
"I was about to touch on that point, m'lord. Your lordship will recall that in speaking of suspicion falling upon Captain Biggar I said "In the first place". In the second place, I was about to add, restitution can readily be made to Mrs.
Spottsworth, possibly in the form of notes to the correct amount dispatched anonymously to her address, if the lady can be persuaded to purchase Rowcester Abbey."
"Great Scott, Jeeves!"
"M'lord?"
"The reason I used the expression "Great Scott!"" said Bill, his emotion still causing him to quiver from head to foot, "was that in the rush and swirl of recent events I had absolutely forgotten all about selling the house. Of course!