P. G. Wodehouse

The Greatest Works of P. G. Wodehouse


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      “You’d gather in a thousand of the best.; Give you a nice start in life.”

      “I’m not talking about your rotten puzzle.”

      “What are you talking about?”

      “That ass Downing.; I believe he’s off his nut.”

      “Then your chat with Comrade Downing was not of the old-College-chums-meeting-unexpectedly-after-years’-separation type?; What has he been doing to you?”

      “He’s off his nut.”

      “I know.; But what did he do?; How did the brainstorm burst?; Did he jump at you from behind a door and bite a piece out of your leg, or did he say he was a tea-pot?”

      Mike sat down.

      “You remember that painting Sammy business?”

      “As if it were yesterday,” said Psmith.; “Which it was, pretty nearly.”

      “He thinks I did it.”

      “Why?; Have you ever shown any talent in the painting line?”

      “The silly ass wanted me to confess that I’d done it.; He as good as asked me to.; Jawed a lot of rot about my finding it to my advantage later on if I behaved sensibly.”

      “Then what are you worrying about?; Don’t you know that when a master wants you to do the confessing-act, it simply means that he hasn’t enough evidence to start in on you with?; You’re all right.; The thing’s a stand-off.”

      “Evidence!” said Mike, “My dear man, he’s got enough evidence to sink a ship.; He’s absolutely sweating evidence at every pore.; As far as I can see, he’s been crawling about, doing the Sherlock Holmes business for all he’s worth ever since the thing happened, and now he’s dead certain that I painted Sammy.”

      “Did you, by the way?” asked Psmith.

      “No,” said Mike shortly, “I didn’t.; But after listening to Downing I almost began to wonder if I hadn’t.; The man’s got stacks of evidence to prove that I did.”

      “Such as what?”

      “It’s mostly about my boots.; But, dash it, you know all about that.; Why, you were with him when he came and looked for them.”

      “It is true,” said Psmith, “that Comrade Downing and I spent a very pleasant half-hour together inspecting boots, but how does he drag you into it?”

      “He swears one of the boots was splashed with paint.”

      “Yes.; He babbled to some extent on that point when I was entertaining him.; But what makes him think that the boot, if any, was yours?”

      “He’s certain that somebody in this house got one of his boots splashed, and is hiding it somewhere.; And I’m the only chap in the house who hasn’t got a pair of boots to show, so he thinks it’s me.; I don’t know where the dickens my other boot has gone.; Edmund swears he hasn’t seen it, and it’s nowhere about.; Of course I’ve got two pairs, but one’s being soled.; So I had to go over to school yesterday in pumps.; That’s how he spotted me.”

      Psmith sighed.

      “Comrade Jackson,” he said mournfully, “all this very sad affair shows the folly of acting from the best motives.; In my simple zeal, meaning to save you unpleasantness, I have landed you, with a dull, sickening thud, right in the cart.; Are you particular about dirtying your hands?; If you aren’t, just reach up that chimney a bit?”

      Mike stared, “What the dickens are you talking about?”

      “Go on.; Get it over.; Be a man, and reach up the chimney.”

      “I don’t know what the game is,” said Mike, kneeling beside the fender and groping, “but—­Hullo!”

      “Ah ha!” said Psmith moodily.

      Mike dropped the soot-covered object in the fender, and glared at it.

MIKE DROPPED THE SOOT-COVERED OBJECT IN THE FENDER

      “It’s my boot!” he said at last.

      “It is,” said Psmith, “your boot.; And what is that red stain across the toe?; Is it blood?; No, ’tis not blood.; It is red paint.”

      Mike seemed unable to remove his eyes from the boot.

      “How on earth did—­By Jove!; I remember now.; I kicked up against something in the dark when I was putting my bicycle back that night.; It must have been the paint-pot.”

      “Then you were out that night?”

      “Rather.; That’s what makes it so jolly awkward.; It’s too long to tell you now——­”

      “Your stories are never too long for me,” said Psmith.; “Say on!”

      “Well, it was like this.”; And Mike related the events which had led up to his midnight excursion.; Psmith listened attentively.

      “This,” he said, when Mike had finished, “confirms my frequently stated opinion that Comrade Jellicoe is one of Nature’s blitherers.; So that’s why he touched us for our hard-earned, was it?”

      “Yes.; Of course there was no need for him to have the money at all.”

      “And the result is that you are in something of a tight place.; You’re absolutely certain you didn’t paint that dog?; Didn’t do it, by any chance, in a moment of absent-mindedness, and forgot all about it?; No?; No, I suppose not.; I wonder who did!”

      “It’s beastly awkward.; You see, Downing chased me that night.; That was why I rang the alarm bell.; So, you see, he’s certain to think that the chap he chased, which was me, and the chap who painted Sammy, are the same.; I shall get landed both ways.”

      Psmith pondered.

      “It is a tightish place,” he admitted.

      “I wonder if we could get this boot clean,” said Mike, inspecting it with disfavour.

      “Not for a pretty considerable time.”

      “I suppose not.; I say, I am in the cart.; If I can’t produce this boot, they’re bound to guess why.”

      “What exactly,” asked Psmith, “was the position of affairs between you and Comrade Downing when you left him?; Had you definitely parted brass-rags?; Or did you simply sort of drift apart with mutual courtesies?”

      “Oh, he said I was ill-advised to continue that attitude, or some rot, and I said I didn’t care, I hadn’t painted his bally dog, and he said very well, then, he must take steps, and—­well, that was about all.”

      “Sufficient, too,” said Psmith, “quite sufficient.; I take it, then, that he is now on the war-path, collecting a gang, so to speak.”

      “I suppose he’s gone to the Old Man about it.”

      “Probably.; A very worrying time our headmaster is having, taking it all round, in connection with this painful affair.; What do you think his move will be?”

      “I suppose he’ll send for me, and try to get something out of me.”

      “He’ll want you to confess, too.; Masters are all whales on confession.; The worst of it is, you can’t prove an alibi, because at about the time the foul act was perpetrated, you were playing Round-and-round-the-mulberry-bush with Comrade Downing.; This needs thought.; You had better put the case in my hands, and go out and watch the dandelions growing.; I will think over the matter.”

      “Well, I hope you’ll be able to think of something.; I can’t.”

      “Possibly.; You never know.”

      There was a tap at the door.