CONFIDENCES ON THE LAKE
§ 1
“M
ISS HALLIDAY,” the Efficient Baxter, another from its and it to a swift, scrutiny, “arrives at about three to-day. She is the twelve-fifty train.”
He the on the his plate; and, having an egg, into its as if to secrets. For it was the hour, and the members of the house party, up and the long table, were their against another day. An of over the like a benediction.
Lord Emsworth looked up from the in which he was immersed. For some time past his of the had been by a of something missing, and now he what it was.
“Coffee!” he said, not violently, but in the voice of a good man oppressed. “I want coffee. Why have I no coffee? Constance, my dear, I should have coffee. Why have I none?”
“I’m sure I gave you some,” said Lady Constance, over the at the other end of the table.
“Then where is it?” his clinchingly.
Baxter—almost regretfully, it seemed—gave the egg a clean bill of health, and in his able way to with this problem.
“Your coffee is the you are reading, Lord Emsworth. You the against your cup.”
“Did I? Did I? Why, so I did! Bless my soul!” His lordship, relieved, took an sip. “What were you saying just then, my dear fellow?”
“I have had a from Miss Halliday,” said Baxter. “She that she is the twelve-fifty train at Paddington, which means that she should arrive at Market Blandings at about three.”
“Who,” asked Miss Peavey, in a low, voice, for a moment to at her plate of kedgeree, “is Miss Halliday?”
“The exact question I was about to ask myself,” said Lord Emsworth. “Baxter, my dear fellow, who is Miss Halliday?”
Baxter, with a sigh, was about to his employer’s memory, when Psmith him. Psmith had been toast and with his and up till now had all to him in conversation.
“Miss Halliday,” he said, “is a very old and valued friend of mine. We two have, so to speak, the fine. I had been to that she had been on the horizon.”
The of these on two of the company was remarkable. Baxter, them, gave such a start that he the of his cup: and Freddie, who had been like a among the on the and had just to help himself to eggs, deposited a on the carpet, where it was and a moment later by Lady Constance’s spaniel.
Psmith did not these phenomena, for he had returned to his toast and marmalade. He thus missed the that had come through Rupert Baxter’s spectacles. It was not a glance, but while it it was like the from an oxy-acetylene blowpipe.
“A friend of yours?” said Lord Emsworth. “Indeed? Of course, Baxter, I now. Miss Halliday is the lady who is to the library.”
“What a task!” Miss Peavey. “To live among the stored-up of and gone genius!”
“You had go and meet her, my dear fellow,” said Lord Emsworth. “At the station, you know,” he continued, his meaning. “She will be to see you.”
“I was about to it myself,” said Psmith.
“Though why the library needs cataloguing,” said his lordship, returning to a problem which still his when he had to give a to it, “I can’t . . . However . . .”
He his coffee and rose from the table. A of had on his head, and always him restive.
“Are you going to your flowers, Lord Emsworth?” asked Miss Peavey.
“Eh? What? Yes. Oh, yes. Going to have a look at those lobelias.”
“I will you, if I may,” said Psmith.
“Eh? Why, certainly, certainly.”
“I have always held,” said Psmith, “that there is no than a good look at a after breakfast. Doctors, I believe, it.”
“Oh, I say,” said Freddie hastily, as he the door, “can I have a of with you a later on?”
“A thousand if you wish it,” said Psmith. “You will me out there in the great open where men are men.”
He the entire company in a smile, and left the room.
“How he is!” Miss Peavey. “Don’t you think so, Mr. Baxter?”
The Efficient Baxter for a moment to some in replying.
“Oh, very,” he said, but not heartily.
“And such a soul! It on that of his, doesn’t it?”
“He has a good forehead,” said Lady Constance. “But I wish he wouldn’t wear his so short. Somehow it makes him a poet.”
Freddie, alarmed, a of egg.
“Oh, he’s a all right,” he said hastily.
“Well, really, Freddie,” said Lady Constance, piqued, “I think we need you to tell us that.”
“No, no, of course. But what I is, in of his his short, you know.”
“I to speak to him of that yesterday,” said Miss Peavey, “and he said he to be it very soon.”
“Freddie!” Lady Constance with asperity. “What are you doing?”
A of tea was the of the opposite the Hon. Frederick Threepwood. Like the Efficient Baxter a minutes before, had him to his cup.
§ 2
The of his lordship’s had upon Psmith at a early stage in the proceedings, and he was on the a cigarette when Freddie him.
“Ah, Comrade Threepwood,” said Psmith, “welcome to Blandings Castle! You said something about to have speech with me, if I rightly?”
The Hon. Freddie a about him, and seated himself on the wall.
“I say,” he said, “I wish you wouldn’t say like that.”
“Like what, Comrade Threepwood?”
“What you said to the Peavey woman.”
“I having a with Miss Peavey yesterday afternoon,” said Psmith, “but I cannot saying anything calculated to the of to the of modesty. What of mine was it that meets with your censure?”
“Why, that about to wear your shorter. If you’re going to go about saying that of thing—well, it, you might just as well give the whole away at once and have done with it.”
Psmith gravely.
“Your heat, Comrade Threepwood, is not unjustified. It was an error of judgment. If I have a fault—which I am not prepared to admit—it is a to that female’s leg. A man than myself might well it hard to against the temptation. However, now that you have called it to my notice, it shall not again. In I will the persiflage. Cheer up, therefore, Comrade Threepwood, and let us see that of yours, of which I such good reports.”
The failed to Freddie’s gloom. He at a which had settled on his brow.
“I’m as as a cat,” he said.
“Fight against this weakness,” Psmith. “As as I can see, is going along nicely.”
“I’m not so sure. I that Baxter something.”
“What do you think he suspects?”
“Why, that there’s something about you.”
Psmith winced.
“I would be to you, Comrade Threepwood, if you would not use that particular adjective. It old memories, all very painful. But let us go more into this matter, for you me strangely. Why do you think that old Baxter, a if I met one, me?”
“It’s the way he looks at you.”
“I know what you mean, but I no to it. As as I have been able to my visit, he looks at and in the same way. Only last night at dinner I him with at about as and a plate of clear as was up. He then to it with relish. So possibly you are all about his for looking at me like that. It may be admiration.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
“Nor, from an æsthetic point of view, do I. But we must these manfully. We must ourselves that it is Baxter’s than his fault that he looks like a lizard.”
Freddie was not to be consoled. His deepened.
“And it isn’t only Baxter.”
“What else is on your mind?”
“The whole of the place is rummy, if you know what I mean.” He Psmith and pallidly. “I say, I that new is a detective!”
Psmith him patiently.
“Which new housemaid, Comrade Threepwood? Brooding, as I do, all the time on and subjects, I have little to keep on the staff. Is there a new housemaid?”
“Yes. Susan, her name is.”
“Susan? Susan? That all right. Just the name a would have.”
“Did you ever,” Freddie earnestly, “see a under a bureau?”
“Does she?”
“Caught her at it in my room this morning.”
“But isn’t it a far-fetched to that she is a detective? Why should she be a detective?”
“Well, I’ve such a of where the or the or what not were detectives. Makes a uneasy.”
“Fortunately,” said Psmith, “there is no to in a of doubt. I can give you an method by means of which you may if she is what she would have us her.”
“What’s that?”
“Kiss her.”
“Kiss her!”
“Precisely. Go to her and say, ‘Susan, you’re a very girl . . .’”
“But she isn’t.”
“We will assume, for purposes of argument, that she is. Go to her and say, ‘Susan, you are a very girl. What would you do if I were to you?’ If she is a detective, she will reply, ‘How you, sir!’ or, possibly, more simply, ‘Sir!’ Whereas if she is the I her to be and only under out of pure zeal, she will and remark, ‘Oh, don’t be silly, sir!’ You the distinction?”
“How do you know?”
“My told me, Comrade Threepwood. My to you, if the of you are in is your of life, is to put the to the test at the opportunity.”
“I’ll think it over,” said Freddie dubiously.
Silence upon him for a space, and Psmith was well to have it so. He had no need of Freddie’s to help him the and the of Angus McAllister’s flowers. Presently, however, his was off again. But now there was a different note in his voice. Alarm to have place to something which appeared to be embarrassment. He times, and his neatly-shod feet, in self-conscious circles, against the wall.
“I say!”
“You have our ear once more, Comrade Threepwood,” said Psmith politely.
“I say, what I came out here to talk about was something else. I say, are you a of Miss Halliday’s?”
“Assuredly. Why?”
“I say!” A the Hon. Freddie’s cheek. “I say, I wish you would put in a word for me, then.”
“Put in a word for you?”
Freddie gulped.
“I love her, it!”
“A emotion,” said Psmith courteously. “When did you it on?”
“I’ve been in love with her for months. But she won’t look at me.”
“That, of course,” Psmith, “must be a disadvantage. Yes, I should that that would the into the of true love to no small extent.”
“I mean, won’t take me seriously, and all that. Laughs at me, don’t you know, when I propose. What would you do?”
“I should stop proposing,” said Psmith, having the thought.
“But I can’t.”
“Tut, tut!” said Psmith severely. “And, in case the is new to you, what I is ‘Pooh, pooh!’ Just say to yourself, ‘From now on I will not start until after lunch.’ That done, it will be an easy step to do no the afternoon. And by you will that you can give it up altogether. Once you have the for the after-breakfast proposal, the will be easy. The one of the day is always the to drop.”
“I she thinks me a butterfly,” said Freddie, who had not been to this most valuable homily.
Psmith from the and himself.
“Why,” he said, “are so often as ‘mere’? I have them so called a hundred times, and I cannot the reason. . . . Well, it would, no doubt, be and to go into the problem, but at this point, Comrade Threepwood, I you. I would brood.”
“Yes, but, I say, will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Put in a word for me?”
“If,” said Psmith, “the up in the of the chit-chat, I shall be to spread myself with no little on the of your qualities.”
He melted away into the shrubbery, just in time to avoid Miss Peavey, who in on Freddie’s a moment later and him company till lunch.
§ 3
The twelve-fifty train up with a of at the of Market Blandings, and Psmith, who had been away the time of waiting by money which he on the slot-machine which butter-scotch, and submitted it to a scrutiny. Eve Halliday got out of a third-class compartment.
“Welcome to our village, Miss Halliday,” said Psmith, advancing.
Eve him with astonishment.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Lord Emsworth was to that, as we were such old friends, I should come in the car and meet you.”
“Are we old friends?”
“Surely. Have you all those happy days in London?”
“There was only one.”
“True. But think how many we into it.”
“Are you at the castle?”
“Yes. And what is more, I am the life and of the party. Have you anything in the shape of luggage?”
“I nearly always take when I am going to a month or so in the country. It’s at the somewhere.”
“I will look after it. You will the car outside. If you to go and in it, I will join you in a moment. And, the time on your hands, take this. Butter-scotch. Delicious, and, so I understand, wholesome. I it for you.”
A minutes later, having for the to be taken to the castle, Psmith from the station and Eve in the of the town of Market Blandings.
“What a old place,” she said as they off. “I almost wish I here.”
“During the period of my at the castle,” said Psmith, “the same has to me. It is the of place where one that one settle into a peaceful retirement and a honey-coloured beard.” He looked at her with admiration. “Women are wonderful,” he said.
“And why, Mr. Bones, are wonderful?” asked Eve.
“I was at the moment of your appearance. You have just off the train after a four-hour journey, and you are as fresh and as—if I may coin a simile—a rose. How do you do it? When I I was in deposits, and have only just managed to them off.”
“When did you arrive?”
“On the of the day on which I met you.”
“But it’s so extraordinary. That you should be here, I mean. I was if I should see you again.” Eve a little, and on hurriedly. “I mean, it so that we should always be meeting like this.”
“Fate, probably,” said Psmith. “I it isn’t going to your visit?”
“Oh, no.”
“I have done with a more on the last word,” said Psmith gently. “Forgive me for your methods of voice production, but surely you can see how much it would have spoken thus: ‘Oh, no!’”
Eve laughed.
“Very well, then,” she said. “Oh, no!”
“Much better,” said Psmith. “Much better.”
He to see that it was going to be difficult to a of the Hon. Freddie Threepwood into this conversation.
“I’m very you’re here,” said Eve, the talk after a pause. “Because, as a of fact, I’m just the least nervous.”
“Nervous? Why?”
“This is my visit to a place of this size.” The car had in at the big gates, and they were up the drive. Through an of trees to the right the great of the had just appeared, and against the sky. The sun on the it. “Is very stately?”
“Not at all. We are very folk, we of Blandings Castle. We go about, and unaffected, all over the place. Lord Emsworth didn’t you, did he?”
“Oh, he’s a dear. And, of course, I know Freddie well.”
Psmith nodded. If she Freddie well, there was naturally no need to talk about him. He did not talk about him, therefore.
“Have you Lord Emsworth long?” asked Eve.
“I met him for the time the day I met you.”
“Good gracious!” Eve stared. “And he you to the castle?”
Psmith his waistcoat.
“Strange, I agree. One can only account for it, can one not, by that I some attraction. Have you noticed it?”
“No!”
“No?” said Psmith, surprised. “Ah, well,” he on tolerantly, “no it will upon you sooner or later. Like a or something.”
“I think you’re conceited.”
“Not at all,” said Psmith. “Conceited? No, no. Success has not me.”
“Have you had any success?”
“None whatever.” The car stopped. “We here,” said Psmith, opening the door.
“Here? Why?”
“Because, if we go up to the house, you will be on and set to work by one Baxter—a fellow, but a for toil. I to you on a the grounds, and then we will go for a on the lake. You will that.”
“You to have out my for me.”
“I have,” said Psmith with emphasis, and in the that met hers Eve so a of and that she into herself and to be frigid.
“I’m I haven’t time to about the grounds,” she said aloofly. “I must be going and Mr. Baxter.”
“Baxter,” said Psmith, “is not one of the natural of the place. Time to see him when you are to . . . We are now in the southern or the west home-park or something. Note the way the deer are the grass. All the ground on which we are now is of interest. Oliver Cromwell through here in 1550. The record has since been lowered.”
“I haven’t time . . .”
“Leaving the on our left, we to the northern messuage. The were from Egypt by the Earl.”
“Well, anyhow,” said Eve mutinously, “I won’t come on the lake.”
“You will the lake,” said Psmith. “The are of the famous old Blandings strain. They were introduced, together with the water-beetles, in the of Queen Elizabeth. Lord Emsworth, of course, over the mosquito-swatting.”
Eve was a girl of high and spirit, and as such being and having her movements by one who, in of his claims, was almost a stranger. But somehow she her companion’s of authority hard to resist. Almost she him through and shrubbery, over and past flower-beds, and her as her the of it all. She gave a little sigh. If Market Blandings had a place in which one might happily, Blandings Castle was a paradise.
“Before us now,” said Psmith, “lies the Yew Alley, so called from the which it in. Speaking in my of to the estate, I may say that when we have this next you will see a most sight.”
And they did. Before them, as they passed in under the of an tree a green vista, with of sunshine. In the middle of this the Hon. Frederick Threepwood was a woman in the dress of a housemaid.
§ 4
Psmith was the of the little group to from the of this encounter, the Hon. Freddie the last. That youth, meeting Eve’s as he his head, where he and with his mouth open until she had disappeared, which she did a moments later, away by Psmith, who, as he went, at his friend a look in which surprise, pain, and were so that it would have been hard to say which predominated. All that a have said with was that Psmith’s had a blow.
“A painful scene,” he to Eve, as he her away in the direction of the house. “But we must always to be charitable. He may have been taking a out of her eye, or teaching her jiu-jitsu.”
He looked at her searchingly.
“You less revolted,” he said, “than one might have expected. This a sweet, shall we say and my already high opinion of you.”
“Thank you.”
“Not at all. Mark you,” said Psmith, “I don’t think that this of thing is a hobby of Comrade Threepwood’s. He has many other of his time. Remember that you pass upon him. Also—Young Blood, and all that of thing.”
“I haven’t any of upon him. It doesn’t me what Mr. Threepwood does, either in his time or out of it.”
“His in you, on the other hand, is vast. I to tell you before, but he loves you. He asked me to mention it if the to in that direction.”
“I know he does,” said Eve ruefully.
“And the no in you?”
“I think he’s a nuisance.”
“That,” said Psmith cordially, “is the right spirit. I like to see it. Very well, then, we will the of Freddie, and I will try to others that may interest, elevate, and you. We are now the main buildings. I am no expert in architecture, so cannot tell you all I wish about the façade, but you can see there is a façade, and in my opinion—for what it is worth—a good one. We approach by a walk.”
“I am going in to report to Mr. Baxter,” said Eve with decision. “It’s too absurd. I mustn’t my time about the grounds. I must see Mr. Baxter at once.”
Psmith his courteously.
“Nothing easier. That big, open window there is the library. Doubtless Comrade Baxter is inside, away among the archives.”
“Yes, but I can’t myself by to him.”
“Assuredly not,” said Psmith. “No need for that at all. Leave it to me.” He and up a large flower-pot which under the wall, and Eve had it through the open window. A thud, by a from within, a of to his countenance. “He is in. I he would be. Ah, Baxter,” he said graciously, as the upper of a by a itself in the window, “a pleasant, sunny afternoon. How is everything?”
The Efficient Baxter for utterance.
“You look like the Blessed Damozel from the gold of Heaven,” said Psmith genially. “Baxter, I want to you to Miss Halliday. She safely after a journey. You will like Miss Halliday. If I had a library, I not wish for a more courteous, obliging, and cataloguist.”
This and no to the Efficient Baxter. His mind with other matters.
“Did you that flower-pot?” he coldly.
“You will no doubt,” said Psmith, “wish on some later occasion to have a long talk with Miss Halliday in order to give her an of her duties. I have been her the and am about to take her for a on the lake. But after that she will—and I know I may speak for Miss Halliday in this matter—be at your disposal.”
“Did you that flower-pot?”
“I look to the of you and Miss Halliday. You will her,” said Psmith warmly, “a assistant, a worker.”
“Did you . . . ?”
“But now,” said Psmith, “I must be myself away. In order to Miss Halliday, I put on my best when I to meet her. For a upon the something in is indicated. I shall only be a minutes,” he said to Eve. “Would you mind meeting me at the boat-house?”
“I am not on the with you.”
“At the boat-house in—say—six and a minutes,” said Psmith with a smile, and into the house like a long-legged mustang.
Eve where she stood, and embarrassment. The Efficient Baxter was still out of the library window, and it to a little difficult to on an ordinary conversation. The problem of what she was to say in order to continue the in an manner was solved by the of Lord Emsworth, who out from the with a in his hand. He Eve for a moment, then memory to wake. Eve’s was to remember, possibly, than some of the which his was to forget. He came beamingly.
“Ah, there you are, Miss . . . Dear me, I’m I have your name. My memory is excellent as a rule, but I cannot names . . . Miss Halliday! Of course, of course. Baxter, my dear fellow,” he proceeded, the at the window, “this is Miss Halliday.”
“Mr. McTodd,” said the Efficient One sourly, “has already me to Miss Halliday.”
“Has he? Deuced of him, of him. But where is he?” his lordship, the with a eye.
“He into the house. After,” said Baxter in a cold voice, “throwing a flower-pot at me.”
“Doing what?”
“He a flower-pot at me,” said Baxter, and moodily.
Lord Emsworth at the open window, then to Eve for enlightenment.
“Why did Baxter a flower-pot at McTodd?” he said. “And,” he on, an question, “where the did he a flower-pot? There are no flower-pots in the library.”
Eve, on her side, was also information.
“Did you say his name was McTodd, Lord Emsworth?”
“No, no. Baxter. That was Baxter, my secretary.”
“No, I the one who met me at the station.”
“Baxter did not meet you at the station. The man who met you at the station,” said Lord Emsworth, speaking slowly, for are so to muddled, “was McTodd. He’s here. Constance asked him, and I’m to say when I of it I was not any too well pleased. I don’t like as a rule. But this fellow’s so different from the other I’ve met. Different altogether. And,” said Lord Emsworth with not a little heat, “I object to Baxter flower-pots at him. I won’t have Baxter flower-pots at my guests,” he said firmly; for Lord Emsworth, though occasionally a little vague, was alive to the of his family hospitality.
“Is Mr. McTodd a poet?” said Eve, her beating.
“Eh? Oh yes, yes. There to be no about that. A Canadian poet. Apparently they have out there. And,” his lordship, a fair-minded man, “why not? A country. I was there in the year ’98. Or was it,” he added, a hand over his and a rich stain, “’99? I forget. My memory isn’t good for dates. . . . If you will me, Miss—Miss Halliday, of course—if you will me, I must be you. I have to see McAllister, my gardener. An man. A Scotchman. If you go into the house, my sister Constance will give you a cup of tea. I don’t know what the time is, but I there will be tea soon. Never take it myself.”
“Mr. McTodd asked me to go for a on the lake.”
“On the lake, eh? On the lake?” said his lordship, as if this was the last place in the where he would have to of people to row. Then he brightened. “Of course, yes, on the lake. I think you will like the lake. I take a there myself every breakfast. I it good for the health and appetite. I in and swim fifty yards, and then return.” Lord Emsworth the from the training-camp in order to look at his watch. “Dear me,” he said, “I must be going. McAllister has been waiting ten minutes. Good-bye, then, for the present, Miss—er—good-bye.”
And Lord Emsworth off, on his that look of which it always when with Angus McAllister were in prospect—the look which wear when about to meet a of their steel.
§ 5
There was a cold in Eve’s as she her way slowly to the boat-house. The which she had just had come as a shock, and she was trying to her mind to it. When Miss Clarkson had told her of the to her old friend’s marriage to Ralston McTodd, she had immediately, without anything of the facts, herself on Cynthia’s and the unknown McTodd and without hesitation. It was many years since she had Cynthia, and their might almost have been said to have lapsed; but Eve’s affection, when she had once it, was a thing, of long separation. She had loved Cynthia at school, and she nothing but anyone who had her badly. She the water of the from under brows, and prepared to be and when the of the piece should arrive. It was only when she her and to Psmith up, in flannel, that it to her for the time that there might have been on sides. She had not Psmith long, it was true, but already his had a on her, and she was to that he be the of her imagination. She to until they should be out in mid-water and in a position to discuss the without interruption.
“I am a little late,” said Psmith, as he came up. “I was by our friend Freddie. He came into my room and started talking about himself at the very moment when I was my tie and needed every of for that task. The painful appeared to be on his mind to some extent.” He helped Eve into the and started to row. “I him as best I by telling him that it would have you think all the more of him. I the that girls the strong, rough, type of man. And, after I had done my best to him that he was a strong, rough, man, I came away. By now, of course, he may have had a into despair; so, if you to see a about in the water as we along, it will be Freddie’s.”
“Never mind about Freddie.”
“I don’t if you don’t,” said Psmith agreeably. “Very well, then, if we see a body, we will it.” He on a strokes. “Correct me if I am wrong,” he said, on his and forward, “but you appear to be about something. If you will give me a clue, I will to you to with any little problem which is you. What is the matter?”
Eve, questioned thus directly, it difficult to open the subject. She a moment, and let the water through her fingers.
“I have only just out your name, Mr. McTodd,” she said at length.
Psmith nodded.
“It is always thus,” he said. “Passing through this life, we meet a fellow-mortal, awhile, and part; and the last thing we think of doing is to ask him in a and direct way what his label is. There is something and in one’s people’s names. It is as if we from some secret. We say to ourselves ‘This may be a Snooks or a Buggins. Better not inquire.’ But in my case . . .”
“It was a great to me.”
“Now there,” said Psmith, “I cannot you. I wouldn’t call McTodd a name, as names go. Don’t you think there is a of Highland about it? It to me like something out of ‘The Lady of the Lake’ or ‘The Lay of the Last Minstrel.’ ‘The at had its the the hill, and with a old Scotland’s pride, Laird McTodd.’ You don’t think it has a of wild ring?”
“I ought to tell you, Mr. McTodd,” said Eve, “that I was at with Cynthia.”
Psmith was not a man who often himself at a loss, but this gave him a such as comes in dreams. It was plain to him that this girl she had said something serious, impressive; but for the moment it did not to him to make sense. He for time.
“Indeed? With Cynthia? That must have been jolly.”
The appeared to have the upon his companion. The came to her face.
“Oh, don’t speak in that flippant, way,” she said. “It’s so cheap.”
Psmith, having nothing to say, silent, and the on. Eve’s was pink, for she was embarrassed. There was something in the of the man her which it difficult for her to go on. But, with the stout-heartedness which was one of her characteristics, she to her task.
“After all,” she said, “however you may about her now, you must have been of Cynthia at one time, or I don’t see why you should have married her.”
Psmith, for want of conversation, had again. The start he gave at these him to the surface of the water with the left in such a manner as to send a into Eve’s lap. He started with apologies.
“Oh, mind about that,” said Eve impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. . . . Mr. McTodd,” she said, and there was a note of in her voice, “I do wish you would tell me what the trouble was.”
Psmith at the of the in silence. He was with a of injury. True, he had not their at the Senior Conservative Club of Mr. McTodd he was a bachelor, but somehow he that the man should have some hint as to his married state. True, again, Mr. McTodd had not asked him to him at Blandings Castle. And yet, undeniably, he that he had a grievance. Psmith’s was an mind. He had to continue the relations which had Eve and himself, to it that every day they a little pleasanter, until eventually, in season, they should the point where it would possible to and hand at her feet. For there was no in his mind that in a world to overflowing with girls Eve Halliday alone. And now this Cynthia had from to them. Even a man as with as he was might it to his with such a as a wife in the background.
Eve his silence.
“I you are that it is no of mine?”
Psmith came out of his with a start.
“No, no. Not at all.”
“You see, I’m to Cynthia—and I like you.”
She for the time. Her was passing.
“That is the whole point,” she said. “I do like you. And I’m sure that if you were the of man I you when I about all this, I shouldn’t. The friend who told me about you and Cynthia it as if the whole fault had been yours. I got the that you had been very to Cynthia. I you must be a brute. And when Lord Emsworth told me who you were, my was to you. I think if you had come along just then I should have been to you. But you were late, and that gave me time to think it over. And then I how you had been to me and I somehow that—that you must be nice, and it to me that there might be some explanation. And I that—perhaps—if you would let me in your private affairs—and if hadn’t gone too far—I might do something to help—try to you together, you know.”
She off, a little confused, for now that the were out she was of a return of her shyness. Even though she was an old friend of Cynthia’s, there did something in this meddling. And when she saw the look of pain on her companion’s face, she that she had spoken. Naturally, she thought, he was offended.
In that Psmith was she was mistaken. Internally he was with a for all those in her which he had detected, they had met, at yards’ range across the from the window of the Drones Club smoking-room. His look of pain was to the that, having now had time to with the problem, he had to of this Cynthia once and for all. He to her for from his life. And the of such a to him to call for a look. So he one.
“That,” he said gravely, “would, I fear, be impossible. It is like you to it, and I cannot tell you how much I the which has you in my troubles, but it is too late for any reconciliation. Cynthia and I are divorced.”
For a moment the had come to him to kill the woman off with some sickness, but this he as possible complications. He was resolved, however, that there should be no question of them together again.
He was to Eve at him in amazement.
“Divorced? But how can you be divorced? It’s only a days since you and she were in London together.”
Psmith to wonder that Mr. McTodd had had trouble with his wife. The woman was a perfect pest.
“I used the term in a than a legal sense,” he replied. “True, there has been no decree, but we are of reunion.” He saw the in Eve’s and on. “There are things,” he said, “which it is for a man to overlook, broad-minded he may be. Love, Miss Halliday, is a plant. It needs tending, nursing, fostering. This cannot be done by the at a husband’s head.”
“What!” Eve’s was such that the word came out in a squeak.
“In the dish,” said Psmith sadly.
Eve’s opened wide.
“Cynthia did that!”
“On more than one occasion. Her in the was terrible. I have her the cat over two chairs and a with a single kick. And all there were no mushrooms.”
“But—but I can’t it!”
“Come over to Canada,” said Psmith, “and I will you the cat.”
“Cynthia did that!—Cynthia—why, she was always the little creature.”
“At school, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“That,” said Psmith, “would, I suppose, be she had taken to drink.”
“Taken to drink!”
Psmith was happier. A did come to him that all this was a on the Cynthia, but he the weakness. It was necessary that Cynthia should in the good cause. Already he had to in Eve’s the of an pity, and is by all the best as one of the most valuable which your can awaken.
“Drink!” Eve repeated, with a little shudder.
“We in one of the of Canada, and, as so often happens, that started the trouble. From the moment when she a private still her was swift. I have her, under the of home-brew, through the house like a . . . I speaking like this of one who was your friend,” said Psmith, in a low, voice. “I would not tell these to anyone but you. The world, of course, that the entire for the of our home was mine. I took that it should be so. The opinion of the world little to me. But with you it is different. I should not like you to think of me, Miss Halliday. I do not make friends easily—I am a man—but somehow it has to me since we met that you and I might be friends.”
Eve her hand out impulsively.
“Why, of course!”
Psmith took her hand and it longer than was speaking necessary.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”
He the nose of the to the shore, and slowly back.
“I have suffered,” said Psmith gravely, as he helped her ashore. “But, if you will be my friend, I think that I may forget.”
They walked in up the path to the castle.
§ 6
To Psmith five minutes later, as he sat in his room a cigarette and looking out at the hills, there entered the Hon. Frederick Threepwood, who, having closed the door him, to the and a and groan. Psmith, his mind thus from meditations, and the with disfavour.
“At any other time, Comrade Threepwood,” he said but with firmness, “certainly. But not now. I am not in the vein.”
“What?” said the Hon. Freddie vacantly.
“I say that at any other time I shall be to to your imitations, but not now. At the moment I am in of my own, and I may say that I you as more or less of an excrescence. I want solitude, solitude. I am in a reverie, and your presence upon me profoundly.”
The Hon. Freddie the of his by his through it.
“Don’t talk so much! I met a like you for talking.” Having his to the left, he through it again and it to the right. “I say, do you know what? You’ve well got to clear out of here quick!” He got up from the bed, and approached the window. Having done which, he Psmith and in his ear. “The game’s up!”
Psmith his ear with a touch of hauteur, but he looked at his with a little more interest. He had feared, when he saw Freddie in with such and so a groan, that the on which he to was the already one of his heart. It now to appear that were on his mind.
“I fail to you, Comrade Threepwood,” he said. “The last time I had the of with you, you me that Susan, or her name is, and told you not to be when you her. In other words, she is not a detective. What has since then to you all up?”
“Baxter!”
“What has Baxter been doing?”
“Only the whole away to me, that’s all,” said Freddie feverishly. He Psmith’s arm violently, that to a and out the thus in his sleeve. “Listen! I’ve just been talking to the blighter. I was the library just now, when he out of the door and me in. And, it, he hadn’t been talking two I that he has through the whole dam’ thing from the moment you got here. Though he doesn’t to know that I’ve anything to do with it, thank goodness.”
“I should not, if he makes you his confidant. Why did he do that, by the way? What him select you as the of his secrets?”
“As as I can make out, his idea was to a gang, if you know what I mean. He said a of about him and me being the only two able-bodied men in the place, and we ought to be prepared to you if you started anything.”
“I see. And now tell me how our friend to that I was not all I to be. I had been myself that I had put the little over with complete success.”
“Well, in the place, it, that dam’ McTodd—the one, you know—sent a saying that he wasn’t coming. So it to Baxter from the start when you in all and bright.”
“Ah! That was what they all meant by saying they were I had come ‘after all.’ A phrase which at the moment, I confess, me.”
“And then you and in the Peavey female’s autograph-book.”
“In what way was that a false move?”
“Why, that was the biggest on record, as it has out,” said Freddie vehemently. “Baxter every that comes to the place on a file, and he’d McTodd’s original with the rest. I mean, the one he the to come here. And Baxter his with what you in the Peavey’s album, and, of course, they weren’t a dam’ alike. And that put the on it.”
Psmith another cigarette and at it thoughtfully. He that he had a error in the of the Efficient One.
“Does he to have any idea why I have come to the castle?” he asked.
“Any idea? Why, it, the very thing he said to me was that you must have come to Aunt Connie’s necklace.”
“In that case, why has he no move till to-day? I should have that he would long since have me as large an audience as he assemble. Why this on the part of old Baxter?”
A of spread itself over Freddie’s face.
“He told me that, too.”
“There to have been no Comrade Baxter and yourself. And very healthy, too, this of confidence. What was his for from the bomb?”
“He said he was sure you wouldn’t try to do anything on your own. He you would wait till your arrived. And, him,” Freddie heatedly, “do you know who he’s got the to think is your accomplice? Miss Halliday! Dash him!”
Psmith in silence.
“Well, of course, now that this has happened,” said Freddie, “I it’s no good of going on with the thing. You’d off, what? If I were you, I’d leg it to-day and have your sent on after you.”
Psmith away his cigarette and himself. During the last moments he had been with some tenseness.
“Comrade Threepwood,” he said reprovingly, “you a and weak-minded action. I admit that the would be if no such person as Baxter were on the premises, but the thing must be through to a finish. At least we have this over our friend, that we know he me and he doesn’t know we know. I think that with a little and we may yet win through.” He to the window and looked out. “Sad,” he sighed, “that these should have with a cloud of menace. One thinks one sees a about in the undergrowth, and on looking more closely that it is in a with a notebook. What one was the of Pan out to be a police-whistle, assistance. Still, we must these without wincing. They are our cross. What you have told me will me, if possible, and more snake-like than ever, but my purpose firm. The goes the ‘Psmith to keep the old flag flying!’ So off and your with a of aspirins, Comrade Threepwood, and me to my thoughts. All will come right in the future.”
