Leave it to Psmith (38 page)

I played golf with the Right Hon. every day, and it was only by biting the Wooster lip and clenching the fists till the knuckles stood out white under the strain that I managed to pull through. The Right Hon. punctuated some of the ghastliest golf I have ever seen with a flow of conversation which, as far as I was concerned, went completely over the top; and, all in all, I was beginning to feel pretty sorry for myself when, one night as I was in my room listlessly donning the soup-and-fish in preparation for the evening meal, in trickled young Bingo and took my mind off my own troubles.

For when it is a question of a pal being in the soup, we Woosters no longer think of self; and that poor old Bingo was knee-deep in the bisque was made plain by his mere appearance – which was that of a cat which has just been struck by a half-brick and is expecting another shortly.

‘Bertie,’ said Bingo, having sat down on the bed and diffused silent gloom for a moment, ‘how is Jeeves’s brain these days?’

‘Fairly strong on the wing, I fancy. How is the grey matter, Jeeves? Surging about pretty freely?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Thank Heaven for that,’ said young Bingo, ‘for I require your soundest counsel. Unless right-thinking people take strong steps through the proper channels, my name will be mud.’

‘What’s wrong, old thing?’ I asked, sympathetically.

Bingo plucked at the coverlet.

‘I will tell you,’ he said. ‘I will also now reveal why I am staying in this pest-house, tutoring a kid who requires not education in the Greek and Latin languages but a swift slosh on the base of the skull with a black-jack. I came here, Bertie, because it was the only thing I could do. At the last moment before she sailed to America, Rosie decided that I had better stay behind and look after the Peke. She left me a couple of hundred quid to see me through till her return. This sum, judiciously expended over the period of her absence, would have been enough to keep Peke and self in moderate affluence. But you know how it is.’

‘How what is?’

‘When someone comes slinking up to you in the club and tells you that some cripple of a horse can’t help winning even if it develops lumbago and the botts ten yards from the startingpost. I tell you, I regarded the thing as a cautious and conservative investment.’

‘You mean you planked the entire capital on a horse?’

Bingo laughed bitterly.

‘If you could call the thing a horse. If it hadn’t shown a flash of speed in the straight, it would have got mixed up with the next race. It came in last, putting me in a dashed delicate position. Somehow or other I had to find the funds to keep me going, so that I could win through till Rosie’s return without her knowing what had occurred. Rosie is the dearest girl in the world; but if you were a married man, Bertie, you would be aware that the best of wives is apt to cut up rough if she finds that her husband has dropped six weeks’ housekeeping money on a single race. Isn’t that so, Jeeves?’

‘Yes, sir. Women are odd in that respect.’

‘It was a moment for swift thinking. There was enough left from the wreck to board the Peke out at a comfortable home. I signed him up for six weeks at the Kosy Komfort Kennels at Kingsbridge, Kent, and tottered out, a broken man, to a tutoring job. I landed the kid Thomas. And here I am.’

It was a sad story, of course, but it seemed to me that, awful as it might be to be in constant association with my Aunt Agatha and young Thos, he had got rather well out of a tight place.

All you have to do,’ I said, ‘is to carry on here for a few weeks more, and everything will be oojah-cum-spiff.’

Bingo barked bleakly.

A few weeks more! I shall be lucky if I stay two days. You remember I told you that your aunt’s faith in me as a guardian of her blighted son was shaken a few days ago by the fact that he was caught smoking. I now find that the person who caught him smoking was the man Filmer. And ten minutes ago young Thomas told me that he was proposing to inflict some hideous revenge on Filmer for having reported him to your aunt. I don’t know what he is going to do, but if he does it, out I inevitably go on my left ear. Your aunt thinks the world of Filmer, and would sack me on the spot. And three weeks before Rosie gets back!’

I saw all.

‘Jeeves,’ I said.

‘Sir?’

‘I see all. Do you see all?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then flock round.’

‘I fear, sir—’

Bingo gave a low moan.

‘Don’t tell me, Jeeves,’ he said, brokenly, ‘that nothing suggests itself.’

‘Nothing at the moment, I regret to say, sir.’

Bingo uttered a stricken woofle like a bull-dog that has been refused cake.

‘Well, then, the only thing I can do, I suppose,’ he said sombrely, ‘is not to let the pie-faced little thug out of my sight for a second.’

‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘Ceaseless vigilance, eh, Jeeves?’

‘Precisely, sir.’

‘But meanwhile, Jeeves,’ said Bingo in a low, earnest voice, ‘you will be devoting your best thought to the matter, won’t you?’

‘Most certainly, sir.’

‘Thank you, Jeeves.’

‘Not at all, sir.’