I would have liked to put him abreast of this latest development, but, as I say, there are things we don’t discuss, so I merely drank deep of the flowing bowl and told him that Gussie had just been a pleasant visitor.
‘He tells me Stinker Pinker wants to see me about something.’
‘No doubt with reference to the episode of Sir Watkyn and the hard-boiled egg, sir.’
‘Don’t tell me it was Stinker who threw it.’
‘No, sir, the miscreant is believed to have been a lad in his early teens. But the young fellow’s impulsive action has led to unfortunate consequences. It has caused Sir Watkyn to entertain doubts as to the wisdom of entrusting a vicarage to a curate incapable of maintaining order at a school treat. Miss Byng, while confiding this information to me, appeared greatly distressed. She had supposed – I quote her verbatim – that the thing was in the bag, and she is naturally much disturbed.’
I drained my glass and lit a moody gasper. If Totleigh Towers wanted to turn me into a cynic, it was going the right way about it.
‘There’s a curse on this house, Jeeves. Broken blossoms and shattered hopes wherever you look. It seems to be something in the air. The sooner we’re out of here, the better. I wonder if we couldn’t -‘
I had been about to add ‘make our getaway tonight’, but at this moment the door flew open and Spode came bounding in, wiping the words from my lips and causing me to raise an eyebrow or two. I resented this habit he was developing of popping up out of a trap at me every other minute like a Demon King in pantomime, and only the fact that I couldn’t think of anything restrained me from saying something pretty stinging. As it was, I wore the mask and spoke with the suavity of the perfect host.
‘Ah, Spode. Come on in and take a few chairs,’ I said, and was on the point of telling him that we Woosters kept open house, when he interrupted me with the uncouth abruptness so characteristic of these human gorillas. Roderick Spode may have had his merits, though I had never been able to spot them, but his warmest admirer couldn’t have called him couth.
14
‘Have you seen Fink-Nottle?’ he said.
I didn’t like the way he spoke or the way he was looking. The lips, I noted, were twitching, and the eyes glittered with what I believe is called a baleful light. It seemed pretty plain to me that it was in no friendly spirit that he was seeking Gussie, so I watered down the truth a bit, as the prudent man does on these occasions.
‘I’m sorry, no. I’ve only just got back from my uncle’s place over Worcestershire way. Some urgent family business came up and I had to go and attend to it, so unfortunately missed the school treat. A great disappointment. You haven’t seen Gussie, have you, Jeeves?’
He made no reply, possibly because he wasn’t there. He generally slides discreetly off when the young master is entertaining the quality, and you never see him go. He just evaporates.
‘Was it something important you wanted to see him about?’
‘I want to break his neck.’
My eyebrows, which had returned to normal, rose again. I also, if I remember rightly, pursed my lips.
‘Well, really, Spode! Is this not becoming a bit thick? It’s not so long ago that you were turning over in your mind the idea of breaking mine. I think you should watch yourself in this matter of neck-breaking and check the urge before it gets too strong a grip on you. No doubt you say to yourself that you can take it or leave it alone, but isn’t there the danger of the thing becoming habit-forming? Why do you want to break Gussie’s neck?’
He ground his teeth, at least that’s what I think he did to them, and was silent for a space. Then, though there wasn’t anyone within earshot but me, he lowered his voice.
‘I can speak frankly to you, Wooster, because you, too, love her.’