There was a tense silence. I stared at the man.
“Jeeves,” I was stunned, “did I hear you correctly?”
“Yes, sir. If it is your intention to play that instrument within a country cottage…”
“You say ‘that instrument’, Jeeves. And you say it in an unpleasant voice. Am I to understand that you dislike this banjolele?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me tell you one thing. Are you aware that a certain Bulgarian, Elia Gospodinoff[27], once played the bagpipes for twenty-four hours without a stop?”
“Indeed, sir?”
“Well, do you suppose Gospodinoff’s personal attendant went away? A laughable idea. Be Bulgarian, Jeeves.”
“No, sir. I fear I cannot.”
“Are you serious, Jeeves?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you are resolved?”
“Yes, sir. If it is really your intention to continue playing that instrument, I have no option but to leave.”
The Wooster blood boiled over. This blighter thinks he is domestic Mussolini[28]. But what is Jeeves, after all? A valet. A salaried servant!
“Then, Jeeves, leave, dash it![29]”
“Very good, sir.”
2
Chuffy
I assembled the stick, the hat, and the lemon-coloured gloves and strode out into the streets of London. Though I was afraid what existence would be like without Jeeves, I had no thought of weakening. As I turned the corner into Piccadilly[30], I observed a familiar form.
This familiar form was none other than that of my boyhood friend, the fifth Baron Chuffnell[31] —the chap, if you remember, whose Aunt Myrtle I had seen the previous night with the hellhound, Glossop.
The sight of him reminded me that I was looking for a country cottage and that here was the very chap who had one.
I wonder if I have ever told you about Chuffy? Stop me if I have. He’s a fellow I’ve known more or less all my life, he and myself having been at private school, Eton and Oxford[32] together. Now he spends most of his time down at Chuffnell Regis[33], where he owns an enormous great place with about a hundred and fifty rooms and miles of parkland.
Don’t think, however, that Chuffy is one of my wealthier friends. He can’t afford to live anywhere else. If somebody came to him and offered to buy the place, he would kiss him on both cheeks. But who wants to buy a house that size in these times? So he lives there most of the year, with nobody to talk to except the local doctor and parson and his Aunt Myrtle and her twelve-year-old son, Seabury[34], who live at the Dower House[35] in the park.
Chuffy also owns the village of Chuffnell Regis—not that that does him much good, either. I mean to say, the taxes on the estate and all the expenses of repairs are very high. Still, he is the landlord, and, as such, would have dozens of cottages at his disposal.
“You’re the very chap I wanted to see, Chuffy,” I said accordingly. “Come right along with me to the Drones[36] for a lunch. I must tell you something.”
He shook his head.
“I’d like it, Bertie, but I’m due at the Carlton[37] in five minutes. I’m lunching with a man.”
“Well, bring him along, then.”
Chuffy smiled.
“I don’t think you’d enjoy it, Bertie. He’s Sir Roderick Glossop.”
I goggled.
“Sir Roderick Glossop?”
“Yes.”
“But I didn’t know you knew him.”
“I don’t, very well. Just met him a couple of times. He’s a great friend of my Aunt Myrtle.”
“Ah! That explains it. I saw her dining with him last night.”
“Well, if you come to the Carlton, you’ll see me lunching with him today.”
“But, Chuffy, old man, is this wise? Is this prudent?”
“Nothing to do, Bertie. I had an urgent wire[38] from him yesterday, telling me to come up and see him immediately. So, I shall go, Bertie. But I’ll tell you what I will do. I’ll dine with you tomorrow night.”
But I had already formed my plans and made my arrangements and they could not be altered.
“I’m sorry, Chuffy. I’m leaving London tomorrow.”
“You are?”
“Yes. The management of the building where I reside has offered me the choice between leaving immediately or ceasing to play the banjolele. I elected to leave. I am going to take a cottage in the country somewhere, and that’s what I meant when I said I wanted to talk to you. Can you let me have a cottage?”
“I can give you your choice of half a dozen.”
“It must be quiet and secluded. I shall be playing the banjolele a lot.”
“There is one. On the edge of the harbour and not a neighbour within a mile except Police Sergeant Voules[39]. And he plays the harmonium. You could do duets.”
“Fine!”
“And there’s a troupe of negro minstrels down there this year. You could study their technique.”
“Chuffy, it sounds like heaven. And we shall be able to see each other sometimes.”
“By the way, what has Jeeves said about all this? I don’t think he wants to leave London.”
“Jeeves has nothing to say on that or any other subject. We have parted.”
“What!”
“Yes,” I said, “he told me that if I didn’t give up my banjolele he would resign. I accepted his proposal.”
“You’ve really let him go?”
“I have.”
“Well, well, well!”
“These things happen,” I said. “I’m not pretending I’m pleased, of course, but I can live without him. ‘Very good, Jeeves,’ I said to him. ‘So be it. I shall watch your future career with considerable interest.’ And that was that.”
We walked on for a bit in silence.
“So you’ve parted with Jeeves, have you?” said Chuffy. “Well, well, well! Any objection to my looking in and saying good-bye to him?”
“None whatsoever.”
“I’ve always admired his intellect.”
“Me too.”
“I’ll come after lunch.”
“As you wish,” I said.
* * *
I lunched at the Drones and spent the afternoon there. Then I went home. I had much to think of. We Woosters can be honest with ourselves. There never had been anyone like Jeeves.
Abruptly, I went into the sitting-room.
“Jeeves,” I said.” A word.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Jeeves,” I said, “about on our conversation this morning.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Jeeves,” I said, “I have been thinking things over. I have come to the conclusion that we have both been hasty. Let us forget the past. You may stay on.”
“It is very kind of you, sir, but… are you still proposing to continue the study of that instrument?”
“Yes, Jeeves, I am.”
“Then I fear, sir—”
It was enough. I nodded haughtily.
“Very good, Jeeves. That is all. I will, of course, give you an excellent recommendation.”
“Thank you, sir. It will not be necessary. This afternoon I entered the employment of Lord Chuffnell.”
I started.
“Did Chuffy come here this afternoon and steal you?”
“Yes, sir. I go with him to Chuffnell Regis in about a week’s time.”
“You do, do you? Well, it may interest you to know that I am going to Chuffnell Regis tomorrow.”
“Indeed, sir?”
“Yes. I have taken a cottage there. We shall meet there, Jeeves.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good, Jeeves.”
“Very good, sir.”
3
Meeting the Past
You know, the longer I live, the more I feel that the greatest thing in life is to be sure what you want and be yourself. When I had announced at the Drones, on my last day in the metropolis, that I was going to the country for an indeterminate period, practically everybody had begged me, with tears in their eyes, not to do such a foolish thing.
But I had acted according to my plan, and here I was, on the fifth morning of my visit, absolutely happy. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. And London seemed miles away—which it was, of course. I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said that a great peace enveloped the soul.
As I stood there that morning, there was a nice little garden, containing a bush, a tree, a couple of flower beds[40], a lily pond with a statue of a nude child, and to the right a hedge. Across this hedge, Brinkley[41], my new servant, was chatting with our neighbour, Police Sergeant Voules.
There was another hedge straight ahead, with the garden gate in it, and over this the placid waters of the harbour. And of all the objects I noted the yacht. It was white in colour, and in size resembling a young liner.
And at this moment the summer stillness was broken by the horn, and I ran to the gate with all possible speed for fear some fiend in human shape was scratching my paint. I found a small boy in the front seat, and was about to give him a good lesson when I recognized Chuffy’s cousin, Seabury.