Plum Pie by P. G. Wodehouse Read Free Book Online Page A

appreciate your dilemma, sir."
    "But perhaps you have already thought of some terrific scheme for foiling Jas and bringing his greasy hairs in sorrow to the grave. What do you plan to do when he calls?"
    "I shall attempt to reason with him, sir."
    The heart turned to lead in the bosom. I suppose I've become so used to having Jeeves wave his magic wand and knock the stuffing out of the stickiest crises that I expect him to produce something brilliant from the hat every time, and though never at ray brightest at breakfast I could see that what he was proposing to do was far from being what Jas Waterbury would have called box office. Reason with him, forsooth! To reason successfully with that king of the twisters one would need brass knuckles and a stocking full of sand. There was reproach in my voice as I asked him if that was the best he could do.
    "You do not think highly of the idea, sir?"
    "Well, I don't want to hurt your feelings---"
    "Not at all, sir."
    "---but I wouldn't call it one of your top thoughts."
    "I am sorry, sir. Nevertheless---"
    I leaped from the table, the fried egg frozen on my lips. The front door bell had given tongue. I don't know if my eyes actually rolled as I gazed at Jeeves, but I should think it extremely likely, for the sound had got in amongst me like the touching off an ounce or so of trinitrotoluol.
    "There he is!"
    "Presumably, sir."
    "I can't face him as early in the morning as this."
    "One appreciates your emotion, sir. It might be advisable if you were to conceal yourself while I conduct the negotiations. Behind the piano suggests itself as a suitable locale."
    "How right you are, Jeeves!"
    To say that I found it comfortable behind the piano would be to give my public a totally erroneous impression, but I secured privacy, and privacy was just what I was after. The facilities, too, for keeping in touch with what was going on in the great world outside were excellent. I heard the door opening and then Jas Waterbury's voice.
    "Morning, cocky."
    "Good morning, sir."
    "Wooster in?"
    "No, sir, he has just stepped out."
    "That's odd. He was expecting me."
    "You are Mr. Waterbury?"
    "That's me. Where's he gone?"
    "I think it was Mr. Wooster's intention to visit his pawnbroker, sir."
    "What!"
    "He mentioned something to me about doing so. He said he hoped to raise, as he expressed it, a few pounds on his watch."
    "You're kidding! What's he want to pop his watch for?"
    "His means are extremely straightened."
    There was what I've heard called a pregnant silence. I took it that Jas Waterbury was taking time off to allow this to sink in. I wished I could have joined in the conversation, for I would have liked to say 'Jeeves, you are on the right lines' and offer him an apology for ever having doubted him. I might have known that when he said he was going to reason with Jas he had the ace up his sleeve which makes all the difference.
    It was some little time before Jas Waterbury spoke, and when he did his voice had a sort of tremolo in it, as if he'd begun to realize that life wasn't the thing of roses and sunshine he'd been thinking it. I knew how he must be feeling. There is no anguish like that of the man who, supposing that he has found the pot of gold behind the rainbow, suddenly learns from an authoritative source that he hasn't, if you know what I mean. To him until now Bertram Wooster had been a careless scatterer of fifteen quids, a thing you can't do if you haven't a solid bank balance behind you, and to have him presented to him as a popper of watches must have made the iron enter into his soul, if he had one. He spoke as if stunned.
    "But what about this place of his?"
    "Sir?"
    "You don't get a Park Lane flat for nothing."
    "No, indeed, sir."
    "Let alone a vally."
    "Sir?"
    "You're a vally, aren't you?"
    "No, sir. I was at one time a gentleman's personal gentleman, but at the moment I am not employed in that capacity. I represent Messrs. Alsopp and Wilson, wine merchants, goods supplied to the