“Just protection.”
“You don’t get any five shillings out of me.”
“Oh, all right.”
He sat silent.
“Something happens to guys that don’t give me their protection money,” he said dreamily.
And on this note of mystery the conversation concluded, for we were moving up the drive of the Hall and on the steps I perceived Chuffy standing. I went out.
“Hallo, Bertie,” said Chuffy.
“Welcome to Chuffnell Hall,” I replied. I looked round. The kid had vanished. “I say, Chuffy,” I said, “young blighted Seabury. What about him?”
“What about him?”
“Well, if you ask me, he’s just been trying to get five shillings out of me and babbling about protection.”
Chuffy laughed heartily.
“Oh, that. That’s his latest idea.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s been seeing gangster films.”
“He thinks he is a racketeer?”
“Yes. Rather amusing. He goes round collecting protection money from everybody. Makes a good profit. I’d pay up[42] if I were you. As for me, I gave him some coins.”
I was shocked. Chuffy was exhibiting this attitude of tolerance! Strange. Usually, when you meet him, he is talking about his poor financial situation. I sensed a mystery.
“How is your Aunt Myrtle?”
“She’s fine.”
“Living at the Hall now, I hear.”
“Yes.”
It was enough.
One of the things, I must mention, which have always made poor old Chuffy’s life so hard is his aunt’s attitude towards him. Seabury, you see, was not the son of Chuffy’s late uncle, the fourth Baron: she got him in the course of a former marriage. Consequently, when the fourth Baron died, it was Chuffy who inherited the title and estates. And Chuffy’s aunt would clasp Seabury in her arms and look reproachfully at Chuffy as if he had robbed her and her child. She looked like a woman who had been the victim of a swindler.
So Lady Chuffnell was not one of Chuffy’s best friends. Their relations had always been definitely strained, and when you mention her name, a look of pain comes into Chuffy’s face and he winces a little.
Now he was actually smiling. Even that remark of mine about her living at the Hall had not jarred him. Obviously, there were mysteries here.
“Chuffy,” I said, “what does this mean?”
“What does what mean?”
“This cheeriness. You can’t deceive me. Not old Wooster. What is all the happiness about?”
He hesitated.
“Can you keep a secret?”
“No.”
“Well, it doesn’t much matter, because it’ll be in the Morning Post[43] in a day or two. Bertie,” said Chuffy, in a hushed voice, “do you know what’s happened? Aunt Myrtle will leave me this season.”
“You mean somebody wants to marry her?”
“I do.”
“Who is this half-wit[44]?”
“Your old friend, Sir Roderick Glossop.”
I was stupefied.
“What!”
“I was surprised, too.”
“But old Glossop can’t marry!”
“Why not? He’s been a widower more than two years.”
“Well, I’m dashed!”
“Yes.”
“Well, there’s one thing, Chuffy, old man. This means that little Seabury will get a devilish stepfather and old Glossop is just the stepson I could have wished him!”
“You know, this Glossop is not very bad, Bertie.”
I could not accept this.
“But would you really say there was good in the old pest? Remember all the stories I’ve told you about him from time to time. They show him in a very dubious light.”
“Well, he’s doing me a bit of good, anyway. Do you know what it was he wanted to see me about so urgently that day in London?”
“What?”
“He’s found an American he thinks he can sell the Hall to.”
“Really?”
“Yes. If all goes well, I shall at last get rid of it and have a bit of money in my pocket. Thanks to Uncle Roderick, as I like to think of him. So Bertie, you must learn to love Uncle Roddie for my sake[45].”
I shook my head.
“No, Chuffy, I fear I can’t.”
“Well, go to hell, then,” said Chuffy agreeably. “Personally, I regard him as a life-saver.”
“But are you sure this thing is going to be? What would this fellow do with the Hall?”
“Oh, it is simple enough. He’s a great pal of old Glossop’s and the idea is that he will let Glossop run the house as a sort of country club for his nerve patients.”
“Why doesn’t old Glossop simply rent it from you?”
“What sort of state do you suppose the place is in these days? Most of the rooms haven’t been used for forty years. I need at least fifteen thousand to put it in repair. Besides new furniture, fittings and so on.”
“Oh, he’s a millionaire, is he?”
“Yes. All I’m worrying about is getting his signature. Well, he’s coming to lunch today, and it’s going to be a good one too. He will like it.”
“Unless he’s got dyspepsia. Many American millionaires have. This man of yours may be one of those fellows who can’t get outside more than a glass of milk and a dog biscuit[46].”
Chuffy laughed jovially.
“Not much. Not old Stoker.” He suddenly began to leap about like a lamb in the springtime. “Hallo-hallo-hallo!”
A car had drawn up at the steps. Passenger A was J. Washburn Stoker. Passenger B was his daughter, Pauline. Passenger C was his young son, Dwight[47]. And Passenger D was Sir Roderick Glossop.
4
Pauline Stoker Asks for Help
Chuffy was the genial host.
“Hallo-allo-allo! Here you all are. How are you, Mr Stoker? How are you, Sir Roderick? Hallo, Dwight. Er—good morning, Miss Stoker. May I introduce my friend, Bertie Wooster? Mr Stoker, my friend, Bertie Wooster. Dwight, my friend, Bertie Wooster. Miss Stoker, my friend, Bertie Wooster. Sir Roderick Glossop, my friend, Bertie—Oh, but you know each other already, don’t you?”
I surveyed the mob. Old Stoker was glaring at me. Old Glossop was glaring at me. Young Dwight was staring at me. Only Pauline appeared to find no awkwardness in the situation. She was as cool as an oyster on the plate. She bounded forward, full of speech, and grabbed my hand warmly.
“Well, well, well! Old Colonel Wooster in person! To find you here, Bertie!