P G Wodehouse – Piccadilly Jim

“About what?”

“About us both being here? Are you going to be sensible and work in with me and divvy up later on, or are you going to risk spoiling everything by trying to hog the whole thing? I’ll be square with you. It isn’t as if there was any use in trying to bluff each other. We’re both here for the same thing. You want to get hold of that powder stuff, that Partridgite, and so do I.”

“You believe in Partridgite, then?”

“Oh, can it,” said Lord Wisbeach disgustedly. “What’s the use? Of course I believe in it. Burke’s had his eye on the thing for a year. You’ve heard of Dwight Partridge, haven’t you? Well, this guy’s his son. Every one knows that Dwight Partridge was working on an explosive when he died, and here’s his son comes along with a test-tube full of stuff which he says could blow this city to bits. What’s the answer? The boy’s been working on the old man’s dope. From what I’ve seen of him, I guess there wasn’t much more to be done on it, or he wouldn’t have done it. He’s pretty well dead from the neck up, as far as I can see. But that doesn’t alter the fact that he’s got the stuff and that you and I have got to get together and make a deal. If we don’t, I’m not saying you mightn’t gum my game, just as I might gum yours; but where’s the sense in that? It only means taking extra chances. Whereas if we sit in together, there’s enough in it for both of us. You know as well as I do that there’s a dozen markets which’ll bid against each other for stuff like that Partridgite. If you’re worrying about Burke giving you a square deal, forget it. I’ll fix Burke. He’ll treat you nice, all right.”

Jimmy ground the butt of his cigarette against his plate.

“I’m no orator, as Brutus is; but, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man. And, speaking in the capacity of a plain, blunt man, I rise to reply–Nothing doing.”

“What? You won’t come in?”

Jimmy shook his head.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Wizzy, if I may still call you that, but your offer fails to attract. I will not get together or sit in or anything else. On the contrary, I am about to go to Mrs. Pett and inform her that there is a snake in her Eden.”

“You’re not going to squeal on me?”

“At the top of my voice.”

Lord Wisbeach laughed unpleasantly.

“Yes, you will,” he said. “How are you going to explain why you recognised me as an old pal before lunch if I’m a crook after lunch. You can’t give me away without giving yourself away. If I’m not Lord Wisbeach, then you’re not Jimmy Crocker.”

Jimmy sighed. “I get you. Life is very complex, isn’t it?”

Lord Wisbeach rose.

“You’d better think it over, son,” he said. “You aren’t going to get anywhere by acting like a fool. You can’t stop me going after this stuff, and if you won’t come in and go fifty-fifty, you’ll find yourself left. I’ll beat you to it.”

He left the room, and Jimmy, lighting a fresh cigarette, addressed himself to the contemplation of this new complication in his affairs. It was quite true what Gentleman Jack or Joe or whatever the “boys” called him had said. To denounce him meant denouncing himself. Jimmy smoked thoughtfully. Not for the first time he wished that his record during the past few years had been of a snowier character. He began to appreciate what must have been the feelings of Dr. Jekyll under the handicap of his disreputable second self, Mr. Hyde.

CHAPTER XVI

MRS. PETT TAKES PRECAUTIONS

Mrs. Pett, on leaving the luncheon-table, had returned to the drawing-room to sit beside the sick-settee of her stricken child. She was troubled about Ogden. The poor lamb was not at all himself to-day. A bowl of clear soup, the midday meal prescribed by Doctor Briginshaw, lay untasted at his side.

She crossed the room softly, and placed a cool hand on her son’s aching brow.