The Greatest Works of P. G. Wodehouse. P. G. Wodehouse
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old boy tottered.
“Fish! Did I hear you rightly?”
“Sir?”
“Did you say that there was a fish under Mr. Wooster’s bed?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sir Roderick gave a low moan, and reached for his hat and stick.
“You aren’t going?” I said
“Mr. Wooster, I am going! I prefer to spend my leisure time in less eccentric society.”
“But I say. Here, I must come with you. I’m sure the whole business can be explained. Jeeves, my hat.”
Jeeves rallied round. I took the hat from him and shoved it on my head.
“Good heavens!”
Beastly shock it was! The bally thing had absolutely engulfed me, if you know what I mean. Even as I was putting it on I got a sort of impression that it was a trifle roomy; and no sooner had I let go of it than it settled down over my ears like a kind of extinguisher.
“I say! This isn’t my hat!”
“It is my hat!” said Sir Roderick in about the coldest, nastiest voice I’d ever heard. “The hat which was stolen from me this morning as I drove in my car.”
“But——”
I suppose Napoleon or somebody like that would have been equal to the situation, but I’m bound to say it was too much for me. I just stood there goggling in a sort of coma, while the old boy lifted the hat off me and turned to Jeeves.
“I should be glad, my man,” he said, “if you would accompany me a few yards down the street. I wish to ask you some questions.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Here, but, I say——!” I began, but he left me standing. He stalked out, followed by Jeeves. And at that moment the row in the bedroom started again, louder than ever.
I was about fed up with the whole thing. I mean, cats in your bedroom—a bit thick, what? I didn’t know how the dickens they had got in, but I was jolly well resolved that they weren’t going to stay picknicking there any longer. I flung open the door. I got a momentary flash of about a hundred and fifteen cats of all sizes and colours scrapping in the middle of the room, and then they all shot past me with a rush and out of the front door: and all that was left of the mob-scene was the head of a whacking big fish, lying on the carpet and staring up at me in a rather austere sort of way, as if it wanted a written explanation and apology.
There was something about the thing’s expression that absolutely chilled me, and I withdrew on tip-toe and shut the door. And. as I did so, I bumped into someone.
“Oh, sorry!” he said.
I spun round. It was the pink-faced chappie, Lord Something or other, the fellow I had met with Claude and Eustace.
“I say,” he said, apologetically, “awfully sorry to bother you, but those weren’t my cats I met just now legging it downstairs, were they? They looked like my cats.”
“They came out of my bedroom.”
“Then they were my cats!” he said, sadly. “Oh, dash it!”
“Did you put cats in my bedroom?”
“Your man, what’s his name, did. He rather decently said I could keep them there till my train went. I’d just come to fetch them. And now they’ve gone! Oh, well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. I’ll take the hat and the fish, anyway.”
I was beginning to dislike this chappie.
“Did you put that bally fish there, too?”
“No, that was Eustace’s. The hat was Claude’s.” I sank limply into a chair.
“I say, you couldn’t explain this, could you?” I said. The chappie gazed at me in mild surprise.
“Why, don’t you know all about it? I say!” He blushed profusely. “Why, if you don’t know about it, I shouldn’t wonder if the whole thing didn’t seem rummy to you.”
“Rummy is the word.”
“It was for The Seekers, you know.”
“The Seekers?”
“Rather a blood club, you know, up at Oxford, which your cousins and I are rather keen on getting into. You have to pinch something, you know, to get elected. Some sort of a souvenir, you know. A policeman’s helmet, you know, or a door-knocker or something, you know. The room’s decorated with the things at the annual dinner, and everybody makes speeches and all that sort of thing. Rather jolly! Well, we wanted rather to make a sort of special effort and do the thing in style, if you understand, so we came up to London to see if we couldn’t pick up something here that would be a bit out of the ordinary. And we had the most amazing luck right from the start. Your cousin Claude managed to collect a quite decent top-hat out of a passing car, and your cousin Eustace got away with a really goodish salmon or something from Harrods, and I snaffled three excellent cats all in the first hour. We were fearfully braced, I can tell you. And then the difficulty was to know where to park the things till our train went. You look so beastly conspicuous, you know, tooling about London with a fish and a lot of cats. And then Eustace remembered you, and we all came on here in a cab. You were out, but your man said it would be all right. When we met you, you were in such a hurry that we hadn’t time to explain. Well, I think I’ll be taking the hat, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“The fellow you pinched it from happened to be the man who was lunching here. He took it away with him.”
“Oh, I say! Poor old Claude will be upset. Well, how about the goodish salmon or something?”
“Would you care to view the remains?” He seemed all broken up when he saw the wreckage.
“I doubt if the committee would accept that,” he said, sadly. “There isn’t a frightful lot of it left, what?”
“The cats ate the rest.”
He sighed deeply.
“No cats, no fish, no hat. We’ve had all our trouble for nothing. I do call that hard! And on top of that—I say, I hate to ask you, but you couldn’t lend me a tenner, could you?”
“A tenner? What for?”
“Well, the fact is, I’ve got to pop round and bail Claude and Eustace out. They’ve been arrested.”
“Arrested!”
“Yes. You see, what with the excitement of collaring the hat and the salmon or something, added to the fact that we had rather a festive lunch, they got a bit above themselves, poor chaps, and tried to pinch a motor-lorry. Silly, of course, because I don’t see how they could have got the thing to Oxford and showed it to the committee. Still, there wasn’t any reasoning with them, and, when the driver started making a fuss, there was a bit of a mix-up, and Claude and Eustace are more or less languishing in Vine Street police-station till I pop round and bail them out. So if you could manage a tenner—Oh, thanks, that’s fearfully good of you. It would have been too bad to leave them there, what? I mean, they’re both such frightfully good chaps, you know. Everybody likes them up at the ’Varsity. They’re fearfully popular.”
“I bet they are!” I said.
WHEN Jeeves came back, I was waiting for him on the mat. I wanted speech with the blighter.
“Well?” I said.
“Sir Roderick asked me a number of questions, sir, respecting your habits and mode of life, to which I replied guardedly.”
“I don’t care about that. What I want to know is why you didn’t explain the whole thing to him right at the start? A word from you would