Read Online Money in the Bank by P. G. Wodehouse - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: P. G. Wodehouse
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could now be reached only by transatlantic telephone.
"Well?" said Anne, as they came into the smoother waters of the arterial road. She detached a hand from the wheel, in order to prod her relative in the ribs and show him that he was expected to wake up and converse. "How do you feel about it all, my poppet?"
"Hey?"
"This business of having a tame detective to help us. I think it has improved our prospects, don't you?"
"Oh, yerss. Decidedly."
Anne looked wistfully out through the windscreen.
"Something must happen now, don't you think? If it doesn't, it will break my heart. You don't know how sick I am of being a secretary-companion."
"You don't know how sick I am of being a butler."
"Let's hope that Mr. Adair will restore the family fortunes. What did you think of him?"
"Smart young feller."
"That's how he struck me."
"Just like what I was at his age."
"Were you slim and muscular?"
Lord Uffenham considered.
"Muscular, yes. Never very slim. What I mean is that I was the devil of a young chap, and this young chap is the devil of a young chap. Got some go in him. Not like that pestilential poop of a pop-eyed plasterer you've gone and got engaged to."
"I've told you before, darling, that you mustn't call Lionel a poop. His eyes never popped in their lives. And he isn't a plasterer, he's an interior decorator."
"Worse, much worse. I was shocked, when you told me you were going to marry him. Shocked to the core."
"I know you were."
"'What, that chap?' I remember saying. 'That slimy, slithery, moustache-twiddling young slab of damnation? Lord-love-a-duck!'"
"You did, didn't you? But never mind about Lionel. He's a subject we've agreed to differ upon. I'm glad you thought Mr. Adair clever. I must say I was impressed by the quick way he seemed to grasp everything. I suppose detectives are like that."
Lord Uffenham uttered a hoarse, gurgling sound, like-some strong swimmer in his agony. It was his way of chuckling.
"He isn't a detective."
"What?"
"Didn't fool me for a second."
The clearness of the road ahead justified Anne in detaching her gaze from it and turning to stare at her companion. The sight of a sort of film beginning to fall over his eyes indicating to her that he was about to go into another trance, she prodded him in the ribs again.
"What do you mean?"
"What I say. D'yer think I don't know a private detective when I see one? I was brought up on them. When I was a young feller starting out in life, they used to follow me about in droves. Private detectives are shocking bounders. You can tell 'em a mile off. This young chap was just some young chap that happened to be in the office. What did you say, when you went in?"
"I said 'Mr. Adair?' Like that. With an enquiring lilt in my voice."
"To which he replied---"
"Something like 'Definitely,' I think. Or 'Absolutely.'"
"Well, there you are. A real private rozzer would have said 'At your service, madam,' or some greasy remark of that kind, rubbing his grubby hands together and smirking like a waiter. Did this chap smirk?"
"No. He just stared."
"Exactly. And why? Because you had bowled him over. You always do bowl these young fellers over. It's a gift you inherit from my side of the family. I've always bowled women over. It was my great trouble in the old days. I'd start out meaning to be merely ordinarily civil, and before I knew where I was, another home wrecked. That's why I used to be followed about by private detectives."
"I wish your memory was as good about diamonds as it is about your horrible juvenile excesses, my angel."
"So do I. No pleasure to me to remember juvenile excesses," said Lord Uffenham, virtuously.
Anne's gaze had returned to the road. Her eyes were thoughtful, and she pressed a tooth against her lower lip. She was reviewing the facts in the light of this new evidence. And as Lord Uffenham had allowed his mind to float off and engage itself with the problem of why birds sit in rows on telegraph wires, when these must be
"Well?" said Anne, as they came into the smoother waters of the arterial road. She detached a hand from the wheel, in order to prod her relative in the ribs and show him that he was expected to wake up and converse. "How do you feel about it all, my poppet?"
"Hey?"
"This business of having a tame detective to help us. I think it has improved our prospects, don't you?"
"Oh, yerss. Decidedly."
Anne looked wistfully out through the windscreen.
"Something must happen now, don't you think? If it doesn't, it will break my heart. You don't know how sick I am of being a secretary-companion."
"You don't know how sick I am of being a butler."
"Let's hope that Mr. Adair will restore the family fortunes. What did you think of him?"
"Smart young feller."
"That's how he struck me."
"Just like what I was at his age."
"Were you slim and muscular?"
Lord Uffenham considered.
"Muscular, yes. Never very slim. What I mean is that I was the devil of a young chap, and this young chap is the devil of a young chap. Got some go in him. Not like that pestilential poop of a pop-eyed plasterer you've gone and got engaged to."
"I've told you before, darling, that you mustn't call Lionel a poop. His eyes never popped in their lives. And he isn't a plasterer, he's an interior decorator."
"Worse, much worse. I was shocked, when you told me you were going to marry him. Shocked to the core."
"I know you were."
"'What, that chap?' I remember saying. 'That slimy, slithery, moustache-twiddling young slab of damnation? Lord-love-a-duck!'"
"You did, didn't you? But never mind about Lionel. He's a subject we've agreed to differ upon. I'm glad you thought Mr. Adair clever. I must say I was impressed by the quick way he seemed to grasp everything. I suppose detectives are like that."
Lord Uffenham uttered a hoarse, gurgling sound, like-some strong swimmer in his agony. It was his way of chuckling.
"He isn't a detective."
"What?"
"Didn't fool me for a second."
The clearness of the road ahead justified Anne in detaching her gaze from it and turning to stare at her companion. The sight of a sort of film beginning to fall over his eyes indicating to her that he was about to go into another trance, she prodded him in the ribs again.
"What do you mean?"
"What I say. D'yer think I don't know a private detective when I see one? I was brought up on them. When I was a young feller starting out in life, they used to follow me about in droves. Private detectives are shocking bounders. You can tell 'em a mile off. This young chap was just some young chap that happened to be in the office. What did you say, when you went in?"
"I said 'Mr. Adair?' Like that. With an enquiring lilt in my voice."
"To which he replied---"
"Something like 'Definitely,' I think. Or 'Absolutely.'"
"Well, there you are. A real private rozzer would have said 'At your service, madam,' or some greasy remark of that kind, rubbing his grubby hands together and smirking like a waiter. Did this chap smirk?"
"No. He just stared."
"Exactly. And why? Because you had bowled him over. You always do bowl these young fellers over. It's a gift you inherit from my side of the family. I've always bowled women over. It was my great trouble in the old days. I'd start out meaning to be merely ordinarily civil, and before I knew where I was, another home wrecked. That's why I used to be followed about by private detectives."
"I wish your memory was as good about diamonds as it is about your horrible juvenile excesses, my angel."
"So do I. No pleasure to me to remember juvenile excesses," said Lord Uffenham, virtuously.
Anne's gaze had returned to the road. Her eyes were thoughtful, and she pressed a tooth against her lower lip. She was reviewing the facts in the light of this new evidence. And as Lord Uffenham had allowed his mind to float off and engage itself with the problem of why birds sit in rows on telegraph wires, when these must be
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