There seemed to me a strong resemblance in the newcomer’s manner to that of those Assyrians who, so we learn from sources close to them, came down like a wolf on the fold with their cohorts all gleaming with purple and gold. He could have walked straight into their camp, and they would have laid down the red carpet for him, recognizing him instantly as one of the boys.
But where the Assyrians had had the bulge on him was that they weren’t going to find in the fold a motherly young woman with strong wrists and a basin in her hands. This basin appeared to be constructed of some thickish form of china, and as Spode grabbed Gussie and started to go into the old shaking routine it descended on the back of his head with what some call a dull and others a sickening thud. It broke into several fragments, but by that time its mission had been accomplished. His powers of resistance sapped, no doubt, by his recent encounter with the Rev. H.P. Pinker, Spode fell to earth he knew not where and lay there looking peaceful. I remember thinking at the time that this was not his lucky day, and it just showed, I thought, that it’s always a mistake to be a louse in human shape, as he had been from birth, because sooner or later retribution is bound to overtake you. As I recall Jeeves putting it once, the mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceeding small, or words to that effect.
For a space Emerald Stoker stood surveying her handiwork with a satisfied smile on her face, and I didn’t blame her for looking a bit smug, for she had unquestionably fought the good fight. Then suddenly, with a quick ‘Oh, golly!’ she was off like a nymph surprised while bathing, and a moment later I understood what had caused this mobility. She had seen Madeline Bassett approaching, and no cook likes to have to explain to her employer why she has been bonneting her employer’s guests with china basins.
As Madeline’s eyes fell on the remains, they widened to the size of golf balls and she looked at Gussie as if he had been a mass murderer she wasn’t very fond of.
‘What have you been doing to Roderick?’ she demanded. ‘Eh?’ said Gussie.
‘I said, What have you done to Roderick?’ Gussie adjusted his spectacles and shrugged a shoulder. ‘Oh, that? I merely chastised him. The fellow had only himself to blame. He asked for it, and I had to teach him a lesson.’
‘You brute!’
‘Not at all. He had the option of withdrawing. He must have foreseen what would happen when he saw me remove my glasses. When I remove my glasses, those who know what’s good for them take to the hills.’
‘I hate you, I hate you!’ cried Madeline, a thing I didn’t know anyone ever said except in the second act of a musical comedy.
‘You do?’ said Gussie.
‘Yes, I do. I loathe you.’
‘Then in that case,’ said Gussie, ‘I shall now eat a ham sandwich.’
And this he proceeded to do with a sort of wolfish gusto that sent cold shivers down my spine, and Madeline shrieked sharply.
‘This is the end!’ she said, another thing you don’t often hear.
When things between two once loving hearts have hotted up to this extent, it is always the prudent course for the innocent bystander to edge away, and this I did. I started back to the house, and in the drive I met Jeeves. He was at the wheel of Stiffy’s car. Beside him, looking like a Scotch elder rebuking sin, was the dog Bartholomew.
‘Good evening, sir,’ he said. ‘I have been taking this little fellow to the veterinary surgeon. Miss» Byng was uneasy because he bit Mr. Fink-Nottle. She was afraid he might have caught something. I am glad to say the surgeon has given him a clean bill of health.’
‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘I have a tale of horror to relate.’
‘Indeed, sir?’
‘The lute is mute,’ I said, and as briefly as possible put him in possession of the facts. When I had finished, he agreed that it was most disturbing.