Jeeves Stories · Jeeves and the Yuletide Spirit (3/3)

Something like an electric shock seemed to zip through me. The man had opened up a new line of thought. I suddenly saw what he was driving at, and realized all in a flash that I had been wronging this faithful fellow. All the while I supposed he had been landing me in the soup, he had really been steering me away from it. It was like those stories one used to read as a kid about the traveller going along on a dark night and his dog grabs him by the leg of his trousers and he says “Down, sir! What are you doing, Rover?” and the dog hangs on and he gets rather hot under the collar and curses a bit, but the dog won’t let him go, and then suddenly the moon shines through the clouds and he finds he’s been standing on the edge of a precipice and one more step would have⁠—well, anyway, you get the idea; and what I’m driving at is that much the same sort of thing seemed to have been happening now.

It’s perfectly amazing how a fellow will let himself get off his guard and ignore the perils which surround him. I give you my honest word, it had never struck me till this moment that my Aunt Agatha had been scheming to get me in right with Sir Roderick so that I should eventually be received back into the fold, if you see what I mean, and subsequently pushed off on Honoria.

“My God, Jeeves!” I said, paling.

“Precisely, sir.”

“You think there was a risk?”

“I do, sir. A very grave risk.”

A disturbing thought struck me.

“But, Jeeves, on calm reflection, won’t Sir Roderick have gathered by now that my objective was young Tuppy, and that puncturing his hot-water bottle was just one of those things that occur when the Yuletide spirit is abroad⁠—one of those things that have to be overlooked and taken with the indulgent smile and the fatherly shake of the head? I mean to say, Young Blood, and all that sort of thing? What I mean is, he’ll realize that I wasn’t trying to snooter him, and then all the good work will have been wasted.”

“No, sir. I fancy not. That might possibly have been Sir Roderick’s mental reaction, had it not been for the second incident.”

“The second incident?”

“During the night, sir, while Sir Roderick was occupying your bed, somebody entered the room, pierced his hot-water bottle with some sharp instrument, and vanished in the darkness.”

I could make nothing of this.

“What! Do you think I walked in my sleep?”

“No, sir. It was young Mr. Glossop who did it. I encountered him this morning, sir, shortly before I came here. He was in cheerful spirits and inquired of me how you were feeling about the incident. Not being aware that his victim had been Sir Roderick.”

“But, Jeeves, what an amazing coincidence!”

“Sir?”

“Why, young Tuppy getting exactly the same idea as I did. Or, rather, as Miss Wickham did. You can’t say that’s not rummy. A miracle, I call it.”

“Not altogether, sir. It appears that he received the suggestion from the young lady.”

“From Miss Wickham?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You mean to say that, after she had put me up to the scheme of puncturing Tuppy’s hot-water bottle, she went away and tipped Tuppy off to puncturing mine?”

“Precisely, sir. She is a young lady with a keen sense of humour, sir.”

I sat there, you might say stunned. When I thought how near I had come to offering the Wooster heart and hand to a girl capable of double-crossing a strong man’s honest love like that, I shivered.

“Are you cold, sir?”

“No, Jeeves. Just shuddering.”

“The occurrence, if I may take the liberty of saying so, sir, will perhaps lend colour to the view which I put forward yesterday that Miss Wickham, though in many respects a charming young lady⁠—”

I raised the hand.

“Say no more, Jeeves,” I replied. “Love is dead.”

“Very good, sir.”

I brooded for a while.

“You’ve seen Sir Roderick this morning, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did he seem?”

“A trifle feverish, sir. A little emotional. He expressed a strong desire to meet you, sir.”

“What would you advise?”

“If you were to slip out by the back entrance as soon as you are dressed, sir, it would be possible for you to make your way across the field without being observed and reach the village, where you could hire an automobile to take you to London. I could bring on your effects later in your own car.”

“But London, Jeeves? Is any man safe? My Aunt Agatha is in London.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, then?”

He regarded me for a moment with a fathomless eye.

“I think the best plan, sir, would be for you to leave England, which is not pleasant at this time of the year, for some little while. I would not take the liberty of dictating your movements, sir, but as you already have accommodation engaged on the Blue Train for Monte Carlo for the day after tomorrow⁠—”

“But you cancelled the booking?”

“No, sir.”

“I thought you had.”

“No, sir.”

“I told you to.”

“Yes, sir. It was remiss of me, but the matter slipped my mind.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, Jeeves. Monte Carlo ho, then.”

“Very good, sir.”

“It’s lucky, as things have turned out, that you forgot to cancel that booking.”

“Very fortunate indeed, sir. If you will wait here, sir, I will return to your room and procure a suit of clothes.”