Bachelors Anonymous by P.G. Wodehouse Read Free Book Online Page B

to accept
charm of manner and glibness of speech as a substitute for cash.
    Arriving
at the battered front door of number 5, Daphne did not knock on it. Jaklyn, who
always felt uneasy when people knocked on his door, had asked her not to.
Placing two fingers of each hand on an upturned tongue, she emitted a shrill
whistle, and Jaklyn appeared in his shirt sleeves with a glass in his hand.
    ‘Oh,
hullo, Daph,’ he said. ‘Thank God you’ve come.’
    With
those who had known them both it was a constant source of debate as to whether
Jaklyn was or was not a more slippery character than his late father. Some said
Yes, some said No, but it was agreed that it was a close thing, and the opinion
of those who had suffered at their hands that the crookedness of each was such
as to enable him to hide at will behind a spiral staircase was universally
held. The only difference between the two was that the sixth Baronet had been
bluff and hearty and had furthered his ends by slapping people on the back,
while the seventh achieved his by looking wistful and pathetic.
    He was
doing so now.
    ‘Daph,’
he said, getting the tremolo into his voice which he found so effective in his
dealings with women, ‘I’m in a terrible hole.’
    ‘Again?’
    Over
her glass Daphne fixed those clear eyes of hers on him. She had no illusions
about the man she intended to marry. Theirs was not one of the great romances.
She had become engaged to him because his bride would be Lady Warner, and he
had become engaged to her because she had plenty of money.
    She was
waiting now for the inevitable moment when she would be given the opportunity
of transferring a portion of that money from her possession to his.
    ‘It’s
not my fault this time,’ he said. ‘I had this tip on a dead cert and the horse
won all right, but there was an objection.’
    ‘How
much do you want?’
    ‘Ten
pounds.’
    ‘That
all?’
    ‘Well,
actually twenty.’
    ‘I can
manage that.’
    ‘Thank
God.’
    ‘Merely
remarking that after that disaster at Kempton Park you promised never to bet
again.’
    ‘I
know, I know. But when you’re given an absolutely sure thing.’
    ‘Yes,
no doubt you acted from the best motives. But I wish you were like the raven.’
    ‘Raven?
How do you mean? What raven?’
    ‘The
one who said “Nevermore”.’
    ‘Oh,
yes, I see. Of course. Ha, ha. Good Lord, it must be fifteen years since I
heard anyone mention that poem. My old guv’nor used to make me recite it as a
kid when he got a bit bottled.’
    ‘I’ll
bet you had him rolling in the aisles.’
    The
financial preliminaries concluded, Jaklyn was at his ease and in the mood for
light conversation.
    ‘Well,
old girl,’ he said. ‘What’s new?’
    ‘My
address for one thing. From now on you will find me at 3A Fountain Court, Park
Lane. Make a note of it.’
    ‘You’re
joking.’
    ‘No.
That’s where I’ll be.’
    ‘Have
you been left a fortune?’
    ‘Somebody
else has, and I shall be living with her. By the way, you must know her,
because I saw you together at the theatre one night.’ And, she added silently,
I bet she paid for the tickets. ‘Look in your little black book. You’ll find
her among the F’s. Sally Fitch.’
    ‘Sally Fitch? Good Lord.’
    ‘You do
know her?’
    ‘I used
to know her quite well. Her father was the vicar of a village in Worcestershire
and did some cramming on the side. He coached me when I was trying for the
Diplomatic Service. Sally Fitch! Well, for heaven’s sake. But who on earth
would be leaving her … did you say a fortune?’
    ‘Figure
of speech. But certainly not a windfall to be sneezed at. Twenty-five thousand
pounds and this flat in Park Lane. I’m living there with her.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because
I’ve been hired to.’
    ‘I
don’t understand.’
    ‘You
don’t have to.’
    ‘I
can’t see how you get into the act.’
    ‘There
are certain conditions attached to the legacy, and I’m there to see that she
observes