P G Wodehouse – The Little Nugget

A snort from Mr Ford checked him for a moment, but he resumed.

‘I guess there were faults on both sides. Get together and talk it over. And when you’ve agreed to call the fight off and start fair again, that’s where I come in. Mr Burns here will tell you, if you ask him, that I’m anxious to quit this business and marry and settle down. Well, see here. What you want to do is to give me a salary–we can talk figures later on–to stay by you and watch over the kid. Don’t snort–I’m talking plain sense. You’d a sight better have me with you than against you. Set a thief to catch a thief. What I don’t know about the fine points of the game isn’t worth knowing. I’ll guarantee, if you put me in charge, to see that nobody comes within a hundred miles of the kid unless he has an order-to-view. You’ll find I earn every penny of that salary… Mr Burns and I will now take a turn up the drive while you think it over.’

He linked his arm in mine and drew me away. As we turned the corner of the drive I caught a glimpse over my shoulder of the Little Nugget’s parents. They were standing where we had left them, as if Sam’s eloquence had rooted them to the spot.

‘Well, well, well, young man,’ said Sam, eyeing me affectionately, ‘it’s pleasant to meet you again, under happier conditions than last time. You certainly have all the luck, sonny, or you would have been badly hurt that night. I was getting scared how the thing would end. Buck’s a plain roughneck, and his gang are as bad as he is, and they had got mighty sore at you, mighty sore. If they had grabbed you, there’s no knowing what might not have happened. However, all’s well that ends well, and this little game has surely had the happy ending. I shall get that job, sonny. Old man Ford isn’t a fool, and it won’t take him long, when he gets to thinking it over, to see that I’m right. He’ll hire me.’

‘Aren’t you rather reckoning without your partner?’ I said. ‘Where does Buck MacGinnis come in on the deal?’

Sam patted my shoulder paternally.

‘He doesn’t, sonny, he doesn’t. It was a shame to do it–it was like taking candy from a kid–but business is business, and I was reluctantly compelled to double-cross poor old Buck. I sneaked the Nugget away from him next day. It’s not worth talking about; it was too easy. Buck’s all right in a rough-and-tumble, but when it comes to brains he gets left, and so he’ll go on through life, poor fellow. I hate to think of it.’

He sighed. Buck’s misfortunes seemed to move him deeply.

‘I shouldn’t be surprised if he gave up the profession after this. He has had enough to discourage him. I told you about what happened to him that night, didn’t I? No? I thought I did. Why, Buck was the guy who did the Steve Brodie through the roof; and, when we picked him up, we found he’d broken his leg again! Isn’t that enough to jar a man? I guess he’ll retire from the business after that. He isn’t intended for it.’

We were approaching the two automobiles now, and, looking back, I saw Mr and Mrs Ford walking up the drive. Sam followed my gaze, and I heard him chuckle.

‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘They’ve fixed it up. Something in the way they’re walking tells me they’ve fixed it up.’

Mrs Drassilis was still sitting in the red automobile, looking piqued but resigned. Mrs Ford addressed her.

‘I shall have to leave you, Mrs Drassilis,’ she said. ‘Tell Jarvis to drive you wherever you want to go. I am going with my husband to see my boy Oggie.’

She stretched out a hand towards the millionaire. He caught it in his, and they stood there, smiling foolishly at each other, while Sam, almost purring, brooded over them like a stout fairy queen. The two chauffeurs looked on woodenly.

Mr Ford released his wife’s hand and turned to Sam.

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