Read Online Summer Moonshine by P. G. Wodehouse - Free Book Online
Authors: P. G. Wodehouse
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it reverently. Three bobs' worth. And now about my reasons for parting company
with the Princess Dwornitzchek. I left because I have a constitutional dislike for watching murder done – especially slow, cold-blooded murder.'
'What do you mean?'
'My father. He was alive then – just. She didn't actually succeed in killing him till about a year later.'
Jane stared at him. He appeared to be serious.
'Killing him?'
'Oh, I don't mean little-known Asiatic poisons. A resourceful woman with a sensitive subject to work on can make out quite well without the help of strychnine in the soup. Her method was just to make life hell for him.'
Jane said nothing. He went on. There was a brooding look in his eyes, and his voice had taken on an edge.
'How well do you know her?'
'Not very well.'
He laughed.
'If you want to know her better, go and see that play of mine. I've put her in it, hide, heels and hair, with every pet phrase and mannerism she's got and all her gigolos and everything, and it's a scream. Thank goodness she is – or was when I knew her – a regular theatre-goer, and she's sure to see it when she comes back. It'll take the skin off her.'
Jane was feeling cold and unhappy.
'You're very bitter,' she said.
'I am a little bitter. I was fond of my father. Yes, she's going to get a shock when she sees that play. I'm counting on it to have much the same effect as the one in Hamlet. There was a good dramatist, too, by the way – Shakespeare. But I'm afraid that's all it will do – give her a jolt. It won't cure her. She's past curing. The time I'm speaking of was years ago, but she's still at it.'
'At it?'
'Making a fool of herself with boys half her age. She was doing it when father was alive, and she's doing it now I suppose if we looked up the recent Von und zu Dwornitzchek, we should find he was a lad in the twenties with lavender spats and a permanent wave. She's undefeatable. She'll be just the same when she's eighty. Or maybe she'll decide to settle down before that, and I shall find myself with a step-stepfather half a dozen years younger than myself who looks like a Shubert chorus boy. When I saw Tubby a year ago, he seemed to think that everything pointed to a man named Peake, who apparently never leaves her side. I trust not. I have met this Peake once or twice, at parties and so on, and he appeared to me a most kickworthy young heel. But I'm afraid he's the next in line. He's just her type. But I mustn't bore you with this family gossip. Will you have a cigarette?'
He held out his case, and was surprised to see that his guest had risen and appeared to be making preparations for departure.
'Hello!' he said. 'The party isn't over?'
Jane was seething internally with an electric fury that made her want to scream and claw and scratch, but because girls of her class are taught to discipline their emotions, she forced a wintry smile.
'I must go.'
'Oh, don't go yet.'
'I must. I hadn't realized it was so late.'
'It isn't late. Three o'clock. The shank of the afternoon.'
'I promised I would be home early.'
'But coffee? How about coffee?'
'No, thanks.'
'Only one-and-six.'
'I don't want any coffee.'
'Well, it's all most upsetting. I had been looking forward to another couple of hours of this.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Still, if you must go, you must. And now to make plans.'
'Plans?'
'For our next meeting. When do we meet again?'
'I don't know. I'm never in London. Good-bye.'
'But listen—'
'I'm sorry,' said Jane. 'I can't wait. Thank you very much for everything. Good-bye.'
She was out of the room before he could push his chair back and get up. Reaching the courtyard a few moments later, he found no signs of her. He stood, looking this way and that, feeling a little bewildered. It might be his imagination, but it seemed to him that in her departure there had been something almost abrupt.
Remembering that there was a bill to be paid and that his absence might be occasioning the grillroom authorities
with the Princess Dwornitzchek. I left because I have a constitutional dislike for watching murder done – especially slow, cold-blooded murder.'
'What do you mean?'
'My father. He was alive then – just. She didn't actually succeed in killing him till about a year later.'
Jane stared at him. He appeared to be serious.
'Killing him?'
'Oh, I don't mean little-known Asiatic poisons. A resourceful woman with a sensitive subject to work on can make out quite well without the help of strychnine in the soup. Her method was just to make life hell for him.'
Jane said nothing. He went on. There was a brooding look in his eyes, and his voice had taken on an edge.
'How well do you know her?'
'Not very well.'
He laughed.
'If you want to know her better, go and see that play of mine. I've put her in it, hide, heels and hair, with every pet phrase and mannerism she's got and all her gigolos and everything, and it's a scream. Thank goodness she is – or was when I knew her – a regular theatre-goer, and she's sure to see it when she comes back. It'll take the skin off her.'
Jane was feeling cold and unhappy.
'You're very bitter,' she said.
'I am a little bitter. I was fond of my father. Yes, she's going to get a shock when she sees that play. I'm counting on it to have much the same effect as the one in Hamlet. There was a good dramatist, too, by the way – Shakespeare. But I'm afraid that's all it will do – give her a jolt. It won't cure her. She's past curing. The time I'm speaking of was years ago, but she's still at it.'
'At it?'
'Making a fool of herself with boys half her age. She was doing it when father was alive, and she's doing it now I suppose if we looked up the recent Von und zu Dwornitzchek, we should find he was a lad in the twenties with lavender spats and a permanent wave. She's undefeatable. She'll be just the same when she's eighty. Or maybe she'll decide to settle down before that, and I shall find myself with a step-stepfather half a dozen years younger than myself who looks like a Shubert chorus boy. When I saw Tubby a year ago, he seemed to think that everything pointed to a man named Peake, who apparently never leaves her side. I trust not. I have met this Peake once or twice, at parties and so on, and he appeared to me a most kickworthy young heel. But I'm afraid he's the next in line. He's just her type. But I mustn't bore you with this family gossip. Will you have a cigarette?'
He held out his case, and was surprised to see that his guest had risen and appeared to be making preparations for departure.
'Hello!' he said. 'The party isn't over?'
Jane was seething internally with an electric fury that made her want to scream and claw and scratch, but because girls of her class are taught to discipline their emotions, she forced a wintry smile.
'I must go.'
'Oh, don't go yet.'
'I must. I hadn't realized it was so late.'
'It isn't late. Three o'clock. The shank of the afternoon.'
'I promised I would be home early.'
'But coffee? How about coffee?'
'No, thanks.'
'Only one-and-six.'
'I don't want any coffee.'
'Well, it's all most upsetting. I had been looking forward to another couple of hours of this.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Still, if you must go, you must. And now to make plans.'
'Plans?'
'For our next meeting. When do we meet again?'
'I don't know. I'm never in London. Good-bye.'
'But listen—'
'I'm sorry,' said Jane. 'I can't wait. Thank you very much for everything. Good-bye.'
She was out of the room before he could push his chair back and get up. Reaching the courtyard a few moments later, he found no signs of her. He stood, looking this way and that, feeling a little bewildered. It might be his imagination, but it seemed to him that in her departure there had been something almost abrupt.
Remembering that there was a bill to be paid and that his absence might be occasioning the grillroom authorities
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