STIFF UPPER LIP, JEEVES by P G Wodehouse

Nor could I see how he had divined that the young master was in sore straits and in urgent need of his assistance, unless it was all done by what I believe is termed telepathy. Still, here he was, with his head bulging at the back and’ on his face that look of quiet intelligence which comes from eating lots of fish, and I welcomed his presence. I knew from experience what a wizard he was at removing the oppressed from the soup, and the soup was what I was at this point in my affairs deeply immersed in.

‘Major Plank?’ he said.

Plank, too, was goggling.

‘Who on earth are you?’

‘Chief Inspector Witherspoon, sir, of Scotland Yard. Has this man been attempting to obtain money from you?’

‘Just been doing that very thing.’

‘As I suspected. We have had our eye on him for a long time, but till now have never been able to apprehend him in the act.’

‘Notorious crook, is he?’

‘Precisely, sir. He is a confidence man of considerable eminence in the underworld, who makes a practice of calling at houses and extracting money from their owners with some plausible story.’

‘He does more than that. He pinches things from people and tries to sell them. Look at that statuette he’s holding. It’s a thing I sold to Sir Watkyn Bassett, who lives at Totleigh-in-the-Wold, and he had the cool cheek to come here and try to sell it to me for five pounds.’

‘Indeed, sir? With your permission I will impound the object.’

‘You’ll need it as evidence?’

‘Exactly, sir. I shall now take him to Totleigh Towers and confront him with Sir Watkyn.’

‘Yes, do. That’ll teach him. Nasty hangdog look the fellow’s got. I suspected from the first he was wanted by the police. Had him under observation for a long time, have you?’

‘For a very long time, sir. He is known to us at the Yard as Alpine Joe, because he always wears an Alpine hat.’

‘He’s got it with him now.’

‘He never moves without it.’

‘You’d think he’d have the sense to adopt some rude disguise.’

‘You would indeed, sir, but the mental processes of a man like that are hard to follow.’

‘Then there’s no need for me to phone the local police?’

‘None, sir. I will take him into custody.’

‘You wouldn’t like me to hit him over the head first with a Zulu knobkerrie?’

‘Unnecessary, sir.’

‘It might be safer.’

‘No, sir, I am sure he will come quietly.’

‘Well, have it your own way. But don’t let him give you the slip.’

‘I will be very careful, sir.’

‘And shove him into a dungeon with dripping walls and see to it that he is well gnawed by rats.’

‘Very good, sir.’

What with all the stuff about reverse passes and prop forwards, plus the strain of seeing gentlemen’s personal gentlemen appear from nowhere and of having to listen to that loose talk about Zulu knob-kerries, the Wooster bean was not at its best as we moved off, and there was nothing in the way of conversational give-and-take until we had reached my car, which I had left at the front gate.

‘Chief Inspector whoT I said, recovering a modicum of speech as we arrived at our objective.

‘Witherspoon, sir.’

‘Why Witherspoon? On the other hand,’ I added, for I like to look on both sides of a thing, ‘why not Witherspoon? However, that is not germane to the issue and can be reserved for discussion later. The real point – the nub – the thing that should be threshed out immediately – is how on earth do you come to be here?’

‘I anticipated that my arrival might occasion you a certain surprise, sir. I hastened after you directly I learned of the revelation Sir Watkyn had made to Miss Byng, for I foresaw that your interview with Major

Plank would be embarrassing, and I hoped to be able to intercept you before you could establish communication with him.’

Practically all of this floated past me.

‘How do you mean, the revelation Pop Bassett made to Stiffy?’

‘It occurred shortly after luncheon, sir. Miss Byng informs me that she decided to approach Sir Watkyn and make a last appeal to his better feelings. As you are aware, the matter of the statuette has always been one that affected her deeply. She thought that if she reproached Sir Watkyn with sufficient vehemence, something constructive might result. Greatly to her astonishment, she had hardly begun to speak when Sir Watkyn, chuckling heartily, asked her if she could keep a secret. He then revealed that there was no foundation for the story he had told Mr. Travers and that in actual fact he had paid Major Plank a thousand pounds for the object.’

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